


this world can hurt you (it cuts you deep and leaves a scar)

by allirica



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fire, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Infidelity, Past Sexual Abuse, Prison, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 136,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allirica/pseuds/allirica
Summary: Canon divergence AU where, after the trial, Aaron tells Robert he just wants to be friends.  A slow burn featuring character growth, plenty of angst, and a new face in Emmerdale that might prove troublesome for Aaron.Please heed the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter.***"Robert will do anything to protect those he considers to be his family.  He’ll lie, he’ll cheat, he’ll use people like puppets and hurt anyone he needs to if, in the long run, it means he wins.  Aaron isn’t like that.  He isn’t cold; he’s raw and dangerous, a force of fucking nature when provoked, and there’s no stopping him.  Getting in his way is like trying to bottle a hurricane.  Robert has never seen anything as beautiful or as dangerous as Aaron Livesy when someone hurts a person he loves."
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 229
Kudos: 322





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actually watched Emmerdale in around a decade, well before Robert's return to the village, but I recently fell down the robron rabbit hole and watched all of their scenes on youtube and, well, here we are. This is my first time writing for this ship and for Emmerdale. 
> 
> Please heed the tags and the warnings at the beginning of each chapter. I'm still writing the story, so I'll add any new tags and trigger warnings as needed.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: mention of past infidelity (the affair era), mention of self-hatred and self-harm, mention of suicidal ideation (Aaron at the quarry), mention of past violence, guns and threats, talk of Gordon and past child sexual abuse.

There’s a hundred reasons why Aaron Livesy terrifies Robert.

His unshakeable loyalty is probably right up there near the top of the list. The amount of people that Aaron is close to, who he is loyal to, is pretty small, though still a hell of a lot more than Robert can honestly admit to. Once he’s decided that someone is one of his, he’s unmoveable, steady and intense in his loyalty. He’ll have their back, no matter what. 

Somehow, Robert managed to become one of Aaron’s people. He didn’t deserve it, but that’s the thing about Aaron: he freely gives it all the same. He kept Robert’s secret, even when the affair was killing him, even when Robert’s actions caused him to run himself to the point of exhaustion. Because he’s loyal. Because somewhere, somehow, he started to care for Robert, and that…that scares the hell out of Robert, more than he could ever say out loud.

It unsettles him how unpredictable Aaron is. How he can go from one extreme to the other. At first, the triggers seemed random, but Robert has learnt them now, has discovered each pressure point, knows by heart just what will get that seething rage inside him to boil over. He’s used it against him too many times in the past, used it to hurt him and to manipulate him. 

Robert will do anything to protect those he considers to be his family. He’ll lie, he’ll cheat, he’ll use people like puppets and hurt anyone he needs to if, in the long run, it means he wins. Aaron isn’t like that. He isn’t cold; he’s raw and dangerous, a force of fucking nature when provoked, and there’s no stopping him. Getting in his way is like trying to bottle a hurricane. Robert has never seen anything as beautiful or as dangerous as Aaron Livesy when someone hurts a person he loves.

If he’s honest, he’s forgotten a lot about the day his affair with Aaron was revealed. He can’t remember the look on Chrissie’s face when she threw him out, or the exact words that she’d screamed it at him. He can’t remember the drive to Andy’s or the things he told himself, swore to himself, in his desperation to fix it, to win Chrissie back. 

But he can remember Aaron’s face, the dark fury, the spark in his eyes and the way he spat his words through clenched teeth when he echoed Robert’s claim right back to him, telling him that everything he’d worked for was gone. 

He should have seen it coming. Should have known that letting Aaron go and swearing to leave him alone was never going to be enough. The second he shot Paddy, hell, the moment he switched on that machine back on the farm, he was done. Aaron was going to destroy him, brutally and flawlessly, and Robert should have known.

But then, that’s Aaron. Unpredictable.

The sheer intensity of Aaron’s hate for himself scares him too. He knows self-destructiveness. He’s seen pain and self-disgust. But he’s never seen it like this before. Aaron’s love for others is equal to his loathing for himself. He loves, _God_, does he love, heart fucking bleeding it like he has endless amounts to give to the right people, but none of it is for himself. He’ll give it out and leave himself empty in the process. 

Robert still has nightmares about seeing Aaron on the ledge at the quarry. Still feels sick when he thinks about the way Aaron stared down the gun aimed at his head and taunted Robert to do it. Seeing him run has his heart dropping into his stomach and he’ll never forget sitting in the hospital, terrified that Aaron was going to die, the image of a cut up arm burned into his memory. The idea that one day, the support network around him might not be enough, that Aaron might jump off that ledge, haunts him. 

The realisation that it could be _him_ that causes Aaron to make that jump has him close to understanding just how deep self-loathing can really run.

What terrifies him most, though, is how much he loves Aaron. As much as he tried to deny it, the realization that he never _stopped_ loving Aaron is sharp and startling; even when Aaron tricked him at the lodge and tried to record his confession, even when he told Robert that he didn’t love him, even when Aaron told Chrissie the truth and, God, even when Robert thought Aaron had been the one to shoot him, he still loved him. He couldn’t stop loving him, even when it was destroying everything around him. Even when it was destroying Aaron himself.

Aaron dug his way under his skin and Robert should have seen it from the start. He’s Aaron’s. He’s always been Aaron’s, and he always _will_ be Aaron’s. One kiss and he changed everything.

So it isn’t a surprise how much it hurts when, after the trial is over and Gordon Livesy is locked up for good, Aaron says, quietly, “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done, okay? All of this, I couldn’t have handled it without you. But I’m not in the right place for this, for you, for everything that’s happened between us. So…mates, yeah?”

He’s used to it by now, the ache, the guilt and the need and the desperation that comes with Aaron pushing him away. But this is different and he can see it in Aaron’s face, can hear it in his voice: they’re done. 

So, no, it isn’t a surprise how deeply it cuts into Robert, shredding apart the first bit of hope, the first bit of _good_ he’s had in a while now.

But that doesn’t change how terrifying it is to watch Aaron walk away from him.

***

Time before Gordon’s sentencing seem to stretch out, but when the day finally comes, it still seems like it’s snuck up out of nowhere.

Robert wants to go. As triumphant as he feels knowing Gordon will finally face punishment for his sick crimes, as viciously, even murderously victorious he feels knowing that Gordon will suffer in prison, part of him still doesn’t feel satisfied, not when Aaron suffered so much worse at the evil bastard’s hands. He needs to see him, needs to watch his face as he’s told just how long he’ll rot behind bars for.

But he can’t. It’s not his place anymore. He’s not anything to do with Aaron anymore, not really; even their tentative friendship feels like a farce these days. He barely sees him and he talks to him even less. Or, rather, _Aaron_ talks to _him_ less. 

Aaron isn’t going. He knows that much. He gets it; Aaron’s done with him and the whole thing. As far as he’s concerned, Gordon is out of his life, done, over, for good. Robert thinks seeing the sentencing might give him some closure, but, frustratingly, it isn’t his place anymore to say that, either.

So he spends the day locked in a twisted sense of impatience. The sentencing is at noon and as soon as the clock hits twelve, Robert finds himself unable to do anything but think about it, envisioning Gordon’s face as he’s given his sentence. It’s not as satisfying as seeing it in person, but it still feels good, in a bloodthirsty kind of way. He doesn’t care; he’s always known he can be a vicious prick. Plenty of people have told him he is and, for all his faults, at least he can claim to be self-aware, if only to piss them off more. 

By mid-afternoon, he’s in the Woolpack. Unsurprisingly, Chas and Charity aren’t there; they, along with most of the rest of the Dingles, including Cain, are at the sentencing. He knows Adam went too, but Victoria is working, looking stressed as she hurries out from the back, loaded down with plates. 

She knows him well enough that, the second she sees him, she just raises her eyebrows and says, “No news yet.”

Robert picks up his pint, taking a long gulp. “Who said I’m here for that?”

“No one needs to. Your mopey face says it all.” She reaches out, prodding at his cheek. “Smile, yeah? You’re scaring off the locals.”

“Pretty sure I’ve been doing that for years.” He smiles when she laughs and sits up straighter on his stool. “You alright?”

“Marlon went to support Paddy and Chas at the sentencing,” she says. “So I’m on my own in the kitchen.”

He tries to keep his face straight as he asks, “Want some help?”

Narrowing her eyes, she tips her head to the side. “Very funny. As if you’d roll up your sleeves and get stuck in back there.”

He grins, unrepentant, but his teasing worked; she looks a little less harried as she takes a step back towards the kitchen. 

“Wait, Vic -,” he starts.

She pauses, meeting his gaze. “Look, I’ll tell you if I hear anything, okay?”

“Thanks.”

She nods and disappears out the back. Slouching back over the bar, he drains the rest of his pint and orders another. By the time the glass is down to it’s dregs, he’s starting to feel a little antsy, tapping his fingertips on the sticky surface of the bar as he keeps an eye on the clock. As much as he tries to squash his worry, he can’t help but wonder if something went wrong, if Gordon’s tried some slimy manoeuvre to get out of a harsh sentence. 

He’s on the verge of taking drastic action by ringing Chas of all people when the door opens. Instantly, the pub goes quiet, even though the people dotted around the tables at least have enough tact to avoid staring as Chas and the rest of the clan spill inside. 

They’re clearly in good spirits, loud and boisterous like only the Dingles can be when in the same room as each other, and the knot in Robert’s belly loosens, relief starting to blossom in it’s place. He can feel it in the pub, too, the almost simultaneous, palpable relaxing of every single person watching Chas, and Robert bites back a stupid smile. As much as he’s an outsider, as much as he’ll _always_ be on the periphery after everything he’s pulled and the amount of people he’s screwed over, the unwavering support the village has for Aaron is something he appreciates.

Chas’s gaze flicks his way as she rounds the bar and her smile tightens slightly. Their relationship improved during the trial; she’d softened to him, marginally, when he stuck by Aaron. Sometimes, she even manages to be civil to him. But she’s never going to like him, let alone approve of him being around her son, so he isn’t surprised by the brief glint of hostility in her expression. She doesn’t voice it, though, instead ringing the bell behind the bar. Nothing is going to bring down her relief or triumph and it’s clear in her grin.

“Drinks on me,” she announces, and a chorus of cheers almost drowns out the rabble of the Dingles as they situate themselves at the bar. 

The commotion has Victoria coming through to the front. Instantly, her gaze finds Adam as he rounds the bar, just as Robert’s does, waiting impatiently as Adam rests a hand on her hip and kisses the top of her head in greeting.

“Well?” she asks. 

“Eighteen years,” Adam tells her. He looks almost drained, his relief painted across his face; he’s been just as tense as any of the Dingles the last few days, waiting to hear the sentence. 

“Bloody hell,” Victoria says, eyes widening as she smiles. “That’s brilliant.”

Robert leans forward, taking a moment to let it sink in. Eighteen years. The bastard will rot away for eighteen years. With any luck, he’ll die behind bars, too, alone and hated, and Aaron will never have to think about him again. The relief he feels is visceral. His hand shakes slightly as he picks up his glass and drains the rest of his beer.

“You should’ve seen his face, Vic. Thought he was gonna collapse for real this time.” Adam says. “Hell, you should’ve seen _Aaron’s_ face.”

Robert’s head snaps up. “Wait, Aaron was there? At the sentencing?”

Adam looks at him, shifting his weight slightly. It’s clear he’s uncertain about talking to Robert about it. He doesn’t dislike him the way he used to, but his loyalty is with Aaron and the Dingles, and he obviously don’t want to be the one letting slip things that they might not want Robert to know.

“Yeah,” Victoria, sharing none of Aaron’s qualms, answers for him. “He went with them.”

Robert’s head is spinning. “But I thought -.”

“Liv asked him to go,” she interrupts. 

“Liv?” he repeats. “She’s back in Emmerdale?” 

How hadn’t he known about any of this?

“Her mam brought her up for the sentencing,” Adam explains. “They’re on their way back to Skegness now. Didn’t want to stick around for longer than necessary.” 

“Can’t say that I blame them,” Victoria says. “Poor girl. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.” 

“And she asked Aaron to go?” Robert repeats. He isn’t sure how he feels about all of this. “So he did?”

“She didn’t want to do it alone. She wanted her brother. Needed him. And Aaron would do anything for her, you know that. No one forced him to go.” Adam shrugs slightly. “Besides, I think it was good for him. He was quiet for the whole thing, but seeing that prick go down for eighteen years, I think he needed it.” 

“Where is he now?” Robert demands, glancing over at the Dingle clan. 

Aaron hadn’t come in with them. Robert would’ve seen him straight away. He always sees Aaron. 

“He went the back way,” Adam says. “Said he needed to be alone for a bit, get his head round everything.”

Robert’s on his feet before he even really thinks about it, but Adam straightens, shifting as if he plans to physically block Robert if he has to.

“Look,” he says. “Just give him some space, yeah?”

“Should he be alone right now?” Robert shoots back. “What if -?”

“He’s not alone, alright? He’s got us.” Adam interrupts, tone sharp. “Just back off, Robert.” 

Robert clenches his jaw and looks away, trying to smother the quick burst of anger in his chest. Lamping Aaron’s best friend isn’t going to win him any favours, not with Aaron, Victoria, or, hell, any of the village, for that matter. 

Adam stares him down for a moment longer before he turns to press a brief kiss to Victoria’s lips. He murmurs something to her and she smiles back, giving his elbow an affectionate squeeze as he steps past her. Robert watches him disappear out the back to go and check on Aaron. 

Victoria meets his gaze. The smile she offers him is small and compassionate. “Adam’s right,” she says carefully. “Now isn’t the time to push, Robert.”

For once, he listens.

***

Gordon Livesy dies just days later.

Robert hears it in the pub. He isn’t even supposed to hear it, but Chas, when worked up, has a tendency to be louder than she thinks, and from his slouch at the bar, he overhears. 

It hurts, to hear it secondhand, to hear it from a position of, if he’s entirely honest, eavesdropping, and he knows that the sting of betrayal he feels isn’t fair, not now he and Aaron aren’t together, are barely _anything_ to each other, but he feels it all the same. Being kept out of the loop is another rejection, one that hurts almost as much as Aaron’s recent apparent indifference towards him.

It’s Cain who draws Robert’s attention to the conversation initially. The guy looks shady just picking up a pint of milk from the shop; he’s a pro at skulking. But there’s something different now, something in the set of his shoulders and the sharp line of his jaw that gives it away. This isn’t Cain being his usual broody self. Something is up.

“How do you think he’s holding up?” Chas hisses. “He hasn’t said a bloody word since this morning. I’ve tried talking to him but he just blanks me. It’s like having an angsty teenager all over again.”

“But is he, you know…” Cain pauses, jerks his head slightly as he gives her a pointed look. “Is he _handling_ it?”

“I don’t _know_, okay?” Chas snips back. “Why don’t you try talking to him? Or -.” She shuts up suddenly, gaze landing on Robert. She sets her jaw. “Look, not now, alright, Cain?”

Cain glances over and nods, leaning away from her. “Fine. Later, then.”

“Wait,” Robert says. “What’s this?”

“This,” Chas says tightly. “Is none of your business, yeah?”

“Has something happened?” he insists, ignoring her hostility. “Is Aaron okay?”

“Are you deaf or ignorant or both?” she demands. 

“Both,” Cain offers.

“Look, I know you don’t like me, you’ve made that clear. But Aaron, he’s…he’s my mate, alright?” It’s not what Robert wants to say, not even close; Aaron will never be just a mate, not to him. But it’s all he’s got. “I want to be there for him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not telling you, so back off.”

“I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”

Chas folds her arms, raising her eyebrows. It’s frustratingly clear where Aaron got his stubborn streak from. “Then I’ll bar you. God knows I’d enjoy doing it.”

“Well, fine. That’s what you’re gonna have to do to get rid of me, because I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know he’s okay.”

Chas opens her mouth to reply, the spark of fire in her eyes making it clear whatever she’s about to say is going to be vile, and he braces himself because she can be cutting when she wants to be, but Cain interrupts, leaning forward and keeping his voice low so no one can overhear him.

“Gordon’s dead, alright? We got the news this morning.”

“Cain!” Chas snaps.

He shrugs, unrepentant, and waves a hand towards the patrons trying and failing to pretend they’re not watching the drama unfold. 

“It was either tell him or have every nosy bastard in the village getting involved,” he points out. “This way, it stays quiet until Aaron’s ready for people to know.” His gaze cuts to Robert, promising violence as he adds, pointedly, “_Right_?”

“Right,” Robert agrees. 

Chas throws up her hands, shaking her head as she walks away. Cain gives Robert one last look, the one that makes it clear he’ll do him in if he causes any bother, and then returns to his seat with Moira and Adam. The three of them lean over the table, talking in hushed voices; probably about Aaron. 

Robert doesn’t stop to think it through before he drains the rest of his drink and gets to his feet, slipping behind the bar and out the back before Chas can notice. He doesn’t hesitate, not wanting to get caught as he makes his way up the stairs and pushes open the door to the upstairs living room, stepping inside.

Aaron’s alone, sat at the kitchen table, a half empty bottle of beer and a car magazine in front of him. He glances up and rolls his eyes before flicking over the page with an annoyed flourish.

“You know this is breaking and entering, right?” he says evenly.

“Well, first of all, I didn’t actually break anything, and, secondly, I’m sure you know all about B and E,” Robert replies playfully. The joke falls flat with Aaron, who doesn’t even look up, just takes a swig from his bottle. “Are you okay?”

Aaron shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I heard about Gordon.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Well, that took, what? Less than twelve hours? I’m guessing the whole village knows by now, then.”

“No. No, Chas is keeping it quiet. I just overheard her talking to Cain about it.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping.”

“Not intentionally.” All it takes is a look from Aaron to call him on his bullshit. “I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m fine, so you can go.”

“Aaron…”

Aaron gulps down the rest of his beer and slams the bottle down on the table, the hollow _thud_ echoing in the small room. “Why do you never take no for an answer?”

Robert opens his mouth to reply, but then pauses, clenching his teeth as he stops to consider his words for once. He’s well aware that they’re on a knife’s edge here; what he says next is the difference between getting booted out the door or Aaron actually talking about how he’s feeling instead of bottling it all up. 

“Do you treat all your mates like this?” he asks finally.

Aaron looks up, eyes narrowing slightly. “You what?”

“You wanted to be mates, so, here I am. Being your mate.” Robert pushes his hands into his pockets. “Talk to me, Aaron.”

He drops his gaze to the table in front of him and doesn’t reply, jaw clenched tight as he grips one hand in the other, digging his thumb into his palm. It’s a sure fire way to know that something is bothering him and Robert wants to reach out, wants to gently take his hand away, but he can’t. It’s not his place anymore.

Instead, he sighs, nodding slightly. “Got it,” he mutters. “I’m going.”

He almost makes it to the door when Aaron speaks up, his voice quiet, strained.

“There was a letter.”

Robert hadn’t expected Aaron to open straight up about Gordon’s death, but he definitely hadn’t expected something about a letter, either. Confused, he turns back to face Aaron. 

“What?” 

“About a week before the sentencing,” Aaron clarifies. “Gordon sent me a letter.”

Vaguely, Robert registers that he’s curling his fingers into his palms at his sides, but he manages to keep his tone even as he replies, “I thought he wasn’t allowed to contact you?”

“He wasn’t. He sent it with Pete.”

Of fucking course he did. Despite being left to rot right where he belongs, somehow, Gordon had still found a way to get to Aaron, to mess with his head all over again. Rage, cold and sharp, splinters in Robert’s chest. Even knowing that the bastard is dead doesn’t do a thing to soften the rush of fury he feels, the desire to get his hands on Gordon, to do _something_ to make him pay for hurting Aaron again. 

Taking a deep breath, he shoves it down, locks it firmly away in the back of his mind. Later, he can let it out, but not now. He moves to sit in the chair next to Aaron at the table, relieved when Aaron doesn’t immediately tell him to get lost.

“So, uh. What did it say?” he asks carefully.

“A lot.” Aaron shifts slightly, clearing his throat as he looks away. “Most of it didn’t matter. But he, uh. He was suicidal.”

Robert waits, but Aaron’s fallen silent, gaze trained on the wall instead of Robert’s face. The knowledge is clearly chewing him up and Robert can almost see it, see the way Aaron’s directing it inwards on himself rather than letting it go. 

“So what?” he asks. He knows the words are harsh, but Aaron doesn’t even flinch.

“He killed himself. Hung himself in his cell.”

_Coward_, Robert thinks. Taking the easy way out rather than face up to the consequences of his own actions. Pushing himself and his death on his kids instead of finally just leaving them the hell alone. He won’t lie, he’s glad the prick is dead, and he won’t ever shed a tear for him, but seeing Aaron start to curl in on himself is painful to watch. The scars on his arm still look so raw.

“Right,” Robert says. “Well, I mean, isn’t that basically him admitting to what he did?”

Aaron’s gaze snaps to him. “He was suicidal and I did nothing. I didn’t go and see him or – or _anything_. And now he’s dead.”

“Aaron,” he says quietly. “You didn’t owe him anything.”

“I know that.”

“What could you have done?” he adds. “Stopped him? He didn’t deserve anything from you.”

“I _know_,” Aaron repeats, almost biting the words out. “But it feels…it feels like it’s on me.”

Robert closes his eyes, drops his head for a second. This is what he’d been afraid of. 

“Him dying?” he asks softly. “Aaron, that’s not fair on yourself. _He_ did it, not you. You spent so long punishing yourself, _hating_ yourself for what _he_ did to you. You can’t blame yourself for his death as well. He chose to do it. It’s all on him, not you. You’re finally free, okay?”

Aaron shakes his head. His eyes and cheeks are red and fresh tears look ready to spill over any second, but he takes a deep breath, swallowing it back. His voice cracks slightly when he says, “I just keep thinking that if I’d gone to see him, or told someone, I just…”

“What could you have done? Would it have changed anything?”

“No.” Aaron says, then shrugs. “I dunno. I just…I need closure. And now I won’t get it.” 

“He’s gone. It’s _over_. You’ve got closure, Aaron.”

“My head’s all screwed up,” he admits, voice raw in a way Robert hasn’t heard since the night Aaron told him everything. “I don’t know what to think.”

Reaching out, he gently places a hand on Aaron’s forearm. “That’s okay. It’s okay to be a bit screwed up over this. No one will blame you for it. I’m here for you, okay?”

Aaron looks up, gaze searching Robert’s face. It stings, that hesitance to trust, to believe him, but it’s not like he can really complain about it. Considering their history, Aaron’s doubt in him makes sense, especially since, as Robert has learned first-hand, he has enough insecurities in the first place. But he’d hoped, probably a little naively, that by standing by Aaron through the whole ordeal, he might have earned even a little bit of trust. 

Finally, Aaron nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

The clatter of footsteps is the only warning they get before the door swings open. Chas almost bounces into the room, a whirlwind of energy and good cheer, her gaze on her phone as she approaches the table.

“Eh, you’re never gonna believe this. Our Charity’s only gone and -.” She stops short the second she looks up and sees Robert. “Oh, you’ve _got_ to be joking me.” 

Aaron sits back, casually sliding his arm away from Robert. “Don’t start.”

“Are you for real?” Chas snaps, attention focused solely on Robert. “What part of ‘stay away’ don’t you understand?”

“Mum, just leave it, yeah?”

“We were just talking,” Robert says. “He’s my mate, Chas. I just wanted to see how he’s doing.”

“By breaking and entering?” she demands.

Robert throws one hand into the air, exasperated. “I didn’t…I didn’t actually _break_ anything. How many times do I have to say it?”

“You’ve only said it twice,” Aaron points out, mouth twitching into something that’s almost a smile. 

The sight of it thaws the irritation in Robert’s chest, a flash of warm triumph rushing through him. He did that. He made Aaron smile, despite how shitty he’s feeling. 

It’s honestly scary just how much Aaron owns him, heart, soul, everything.

“Get lost,” Chas snaps. “I mean it, Robert. If I have to throw you out of here myself, I’ll bloody do it.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he replies, pushing up to his feet. He glances at Aaron. “Look, if you need anything, to talk or whatever, you can call me, okay?”

Aaron ducks his head slightly as he nods. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, mate.”

Unsurprisingly, Chas follows him to the door. “I mean it,” she seethes. “_Stay. Away_ from him, Robert. The last thing he needs right now is you messing with his head again.” 

Robert bites his tongue, swallowing back the cutting words he wants to say to her. Instead, he mutters, “Just…just keep an eye on him, alright?”

Also unsurprisingly, her response isn’t pleasant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in this chapter for: mention of explicit sexual content, reference to self-harm, reference to Gordon.

Winter in the countryside always seems much more brutal than in the city.

Out here, there’s no tall buildings to block the biting roar of the wind, no light pollution to ward off the near constant gloominess of the season. In London, there’s no chance of getting snowed in anywhere, and the Tube, however unreliable it might be most days, is always there when the roads are icy and the buses aren’t running. Robert still doesn’t know if he hates or prefers winter in the countryside. 

Late November in Emmerdale brings snow and, with it, a new face in the village.

Robert has no clue who he is, only that, from the moment his eyes first land on him, he doesn’t like him. 

He first sees him at the scrapyard. He’s got Aaron against the side of the portacabin. Robert can’t see his face, only his back, and he’s not pinning Aaron against the wall, exactly; in fact, there’s a good couple of feet separating them. But something about the scene still discomforts Robert. Something about the tense slope of Aaron’s shoulders, the way he’s got his fists shoved in the pockets of his hoodie and his jaw set in a familiar, stubborn scowl. 

Neither of them glance over as Robert pulls to a stop, but the stranger does back off another step, saying something that Robert can’t hear. Aaron’s lips press together as he half nods, half shrugs, then smirks as he replies. It isn’t a nice smile; it’s the one that’s just as much of a warning as any frown or verbal threat he can offer. 

By the time Robert’s approaching him, the guy is turning away. Robert barely catches a glimpse of brown hair and a tattoo before the bloke shoulders him roughly as he walks past. He climbs into a shitty heap of a car, revving the engine as he pulls away from the scrapyard. Robert watches him go as he nears Aaron.

“Alright?” he asks.

Aaron tears his gaze away the ground, frowning slightly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Before Robert can reply, he adds, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Robert ignores the question, glancing over his shoulder in the direction the car had gone as he asks, “Who was that, then? I’ve not seen him in the village before.”

“Right, ‘cause you need to know every single person in Emmerdale.”

The hostility surprises Robert. It really shouldn’t anymore. Aaron’s unpredictable. He fluctuates, constantly; whenever he seems to soften, even the slightest bit, he comes back harder and stronger and even more defensive just moments later. Robert should be used to it by now.

But he’s not going to give up on Aaron. Not after everything. 

“I do when they look like they’d jack my car the minute my back is turned.” He means it as a joke, smirking slightly as he meets Aaron’s gaze, but he realises his mistake the second Aaron’s expression goes stone cold, eyes sparking with a familiar vicious anger. 

“Yeah?” he snaps back. “Well, I’ll be sure to warn him, then. Tell him that you like to shag car thieves behind your wife’s back. Though, I suppose this time you don’t have a wife to cheat on, so there’s that.”

Robert grits his teeth hard to keep from lashing out in return, but the words hurt, cutting deeper than he’d like to admit. He wonders if he should be ashamed that he doesn’t really care about Chrissie, not really; no, the guilt and regret he feels is for how much he hurt Aaron back then, and for how he ruined any chance he might have had with the one person he’s ever truly, deeply loved.

“What’s with the hostility? I’m just asking.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Why are you here, Robert?”

“I came to pick up this month’s report. Adam said it was ready.”

He watches Aaron turn away, bending over a scrap car to get to work on stripping it. His shoulders are tight, posture defensive, and it’s obvious he wants Robert to just piss off already. 

“You can fetch it yourself,” he mutters. “It’s in the office.”

Robert can’t help his scoff. “Right. Brilliant. Thanks for your help.”

Aaron gives a lazy little flick of his hand in response, not even turning to look at Robert. Part of him is tempted to linger, to push to get a reaction, any kind of reaction, because it’s better than what Aaron is giving him right now, but he’s learning. He’s trying to change. So he swallows back the words and turns away, heading into the portacabin. 

Unsurprisingly, the office is a mess. It takes several minutes of rummaging through the various piles of paperwork and manila folders to find the right file. He brushes some errant biscuit crumbs off it and tucks it under one arm, but pauses on his way to the door, glancing at the desk.

He wants to rummage further, to look in the drawers, maybe search the computer. He knows it’s wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something going on, something that might harm Aaron, and he wants to know, wants to be prepared so he can do whatever it takes to make sure whatever it is _doesn’t_ hurt him. 

A few months ago, he would have done it, no hesitation. If caught out, he wouldn’t have been sorry for it, either. But now, he fights the urge and forces himself to turn away, from the desk and from the instincts that have only ever served to drive people away.

He thinks it might actually be progress.

By the time he steps outside, Aaron is busy hauling bits of junk across the yard. The snow is falling a little heavier, flakes rushing in frantic circles in the biting wind, and, despite his hat, thick jacket and gloves, Aaron’s face is pink from the cold, his breath pluming white in front of him as he works. Robert closes the door behind him and leans against it, watching him for a few minutes, the rhythmic lift, drag and toss of chunks of metal that, once upon a time, might’ve been car parts.

The only sound is the roar of wind, interrupted occasionally by a grunt as Aaron tackles a particularly heavy task. He doesn’t pause, though, or slow down, even though he’s obviously feeling the cold. When he catches Robert watching, he scowls, giving a piece of junk a particularly savage shove to get it where he wants it.

“What?” he demands.

“You should take the rest of the day off,” Robert remarks calmly. “Snow’s getting worse.” 

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. I have to get this done.” Aaron glances up again and, this time, there’s a hint of that familiar playful sparkle in his eyes. “I mean, I’ve gotta keep the boss happy, don’t I?”

Robert grins, tucking his hands into his pockets to ward off the cold. “Yeah, except I’m not actually your boss, remember?”

Aaron does pause then, tilting his head slightly, a smirk ghosting across his mouth. “Who said I was talking about you? Let’s face it, Adam’s been running this place more than you or I have.”

“Adam? The boss?” he asks incredulously. “God help us all.”

“Oi, watch it. That’s my best mate you’re talking about.” He’s smiling though, properly now, posture loose and relaxed. “You find the report okay?”

“Eventually. I had to dig around to get it. Are you allergic to tidiness?”

“Yeah, you’ve got me. I’m dead allergic. Too much cleanliness and I start breaking out in this nasty rash.” Aaron replies easily. “Actually, you’d better untuck your shirt or something, your neatness is making me itch.”

Robert feels his own grin widen. “What, you want me to untuck my shirt? Maybe get my kit off? Bit cold for it out here, but I’m sure I’d warm up soon enough.”

Aaron’s expression shuts down. He looks away, shifting his weight slightly, and Robert bites back a sigh. Moment over. He doesn’t say anything, just watches Aaron steadily as the younger man gets back to work, starting to remove parts from the shell of a car, tossing the useless bits aside. 

When it becomes clear that Aaron isn’t going to say anything, Robert caves and breaks the silence. “You really should take a break, at least. It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m fine.” His tone is short, dismissive, poking at the frustration in Robert’s chest.

“Is this some kind of test?” he demands.

Aaron scoffs. “Right, yeah, ‘cause I’ve obviously got nothing better to do with my day than give you some barmy test. Get over yourself, mate. I’m just trying to get this done.”

Robert looks away, curling his hands into fists in his pockets. He doesn’t know why Aaron can rile him up so easily, more than anyone else; not Andy, or Ross, or even Chrissie and her family. Maybe it’s because he actually loves Aaron, actually craves his approval, his love, and that just makes it all the more frustrating when Aaron shuts him out like this, like he’s nothing. 

“Right, fine, whatever,” he forces out. “Just tidy up that mess in there, alright?”

Back turned, Aaron just gives another indifferent wave of his hand.

Robert leaves before he says something he knows he’ll regret.

***

Aaron spends a week avoiding him.

If he’s entirely honest, it’s tiring. It’s _boring_. He’s fed up with it, sick of Aaron looking away the second Robert’s gaze meets his across a room, sick of how, at the scrapyard, Adam now seems to be always there, getting in the way of any chance to talk to Aaron privately. 

He doesn’t know why. That’s what bothers him most. Usually, he at least knows exactly how and why he’s pissed someone off. He’s got pretty good at it, after all. But he has no idea why Aaron is blowing hot and cold with him and it’s starting to grate on him. 

“Do you think I should cut my losses?” he asks Victoria on a bitterly cold Thursday evening, when the pub is half empty and Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

She’s in the middle of pulling a pint, but she flicks him a gaze. “Well, yeah. Why haven’t you already?”

“Because I love him.”

She sighs and places the pint on the bar, taking the payment with a quick smile. Once the patron has ambled off, she crosses her arms over her chest and looks at Robert.

“I get it,” she says. “But Robert, you’re chasing after something that isn’t going to happen. He told you he doesn’t want to be with you, that he just wants to be friends. You can’t have a go at him when you’re the one refusing to accept that.”

“I’m not refusing anything,” he insists. “I just…I _can’t_ give up on him, Vic. He’s the only good thing in my life.”

“Oh, well, cheers for that,” she snipes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Look,” she says. “I know you love him. I know that he’s been one of the few good things in your life lately. But, Rob, look at everything that’s happened between you. The affair behind Chrissie’s back, him blowing the lid on it just to get at you, the way you both went at each other’s throats for ages after, all of it. You two weren’t good for each other.”

“But we could’ve been,” he says. “We _could_ be. We could be perfect. I know it.”

“Maybe. But it takes two people to want to be in a relationship for there to, you know, actually _be_ a relationship, Robert. Aaron wants to be mates. Can’t he be a good thing in your life as a friend?” Victoria shrugs. “And if you can’t handle it, then…yeah, you should cut your losses. But moping around isn’t going to do anyone any good, is it?”

He knows she’s right, but he’s not ready to admit it. After everything he and Aaron went through, after all of the pain and all of the happiness, after standing at Aaron’s side throughout his ordeal with Gordon and after finally being honest with himself and accepting his feelings for the other man, Robert isn’t willing to just let go, not when he knows they could be so good together. Not when he still loves Aaron more than anything. 

He remembers what it was like to be inside Aaron. To feel his fingers digging into his flesh, hear the breathless, encouraging sounds in his ear, kiss the salty-sweet taste of pleasure off Aaron’s mouth as they fucked. He remembers how it felt to hold Aaron’s face and watch him as he shattered apart around him, always so intense, so beautiful when he came; he remembers how it felt to know that it was for him, only for him, _all_ for him.

He took it for granted, but he’s not willing to just give up on what they could be. He’s not willing to give up on Aaron, no matter how hard he tries to push Robert away.

“Look,” he says. “Just…is he okay?”

She frowns slightly. “Yeah? Why, has something happened?”

“No, no, not…well, I mean, I’m not exactly sure. There was this bloke last week -.”

“What bloke?”

“I don’t know. Aaron didn’t talk to me about it. But I just got this feeling, okay? Has Aaron been himself lately?”

“You mean a massive pain in the backside?” she replies. “Yeah, same as usual. I’m sure he’s fine, Rob. He’s got people keeping an eye on him, alright?”

He looks down at his hands. He knows Chas, Paddy, Cain, Adam, all of them, they’re all looking out for Aaron. But they missed it before and they could miss it again. He just can’t shake the bad feeling in his gut.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Vic.”

***

When he swings by the Woolpack two days later, he steps into utter chaos.

The place is decked out with the kind of gaudy decorations that can only be blamed on Charity’s unique taste. Some pop song is blasting over the speakers and the place is packed out, mostly full of the Dingle clan, knocking back drinks and dancing and cheering.

In the middle of it all is Aaron, face scrunched up in disgust as he gulps down booze from a welly of all things.

For a moment, all Robert can do is stare in bewilderment. He can feel his mouth tugging up into a reluctant smile at the scene and he doesn’t even bother to try and hide it. Instead, he joins the circle surrounding Aaron, laughing when he finally lowers the welly and splutters a string of curse words, ale soaking his shirt.

Another cheer rings out and Cain playfully slaps Aaron on the shoulder as Charity takes a picture. Adam pushes his way through the crowd, a grin on his face. 

“Oi, I’m looking for Aaron Livesy,” he announces.

“Sorry, mate,” Aaron replies, face lit up. “He doesn’t live here anymore.”

Another cheer and more than a few beer stains on the carpet as pints are knocked together. Aaron waves off Cain’s attempt to get him to drink from the welly again, moving instead to lean on the bar, and Robert squeezes through the crowd to join him.

“So, that was pretty rank,” he says. “Did they even clean that welly?”

Aaron looks at him. “Probably not,” he admits, grinning. “Tasted pretty rank, too.”

“Eugh,” he says, pulling a face, and Aaron laughs. “So, what’s all this, then?”

“I finally got the paperwork through this morning,” Aaron says. At Robert’s blank expression, he adds, “My name change. I’m officially a Dingle now.”

“My condolences,” he offers dryly.

“Oi!” Charity warns, smacking him on the arm. “Watch it, you.” 

Aaron laughs, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, I’m not quite sure what I’ve got myself into. But they’re not so bad, this lot. Besides, I’d happily be a Dingle any day, over having…” He trails off, smile tightening at the edges.

_Over having Gordon’s surname_, Robert thinks. He knows that it’s something Aaron had been considering, back during the trial. He’d discussed it with Chas a lot. But he hadn’t known Aaron had actually made a decision, that he’d actually gone for the name change. It’s a surprise, but not an unpleasant one, even though he hadn’t been there for it. Aaron looks happy. Really happy.

“Well,” he offers. “Aaron Dingle. It suits you.”

Aaron grins. “Thanks, mate.” 

Robert leans his arms on the bar, looking across at him. “Look,” he says. “Do you maybe want to have a drink together later?”

“Oh. Uh, that would be…” Aaron trails off, gaze finding something over Robert’s shoulder. His expression closes off. “Actually, maybe not, yeah? Knowing this lot, I’ll be completely wrecked by the time they’re done with me. Dingle initiation and all.” 

“No Dingle gathering is complete without truly evil amounts of booze,” Charity pipes up, appearing out of nowhere to sling her arm over Aaron’s shoulder. 

“Alcoholism based family gatherings,” Robert says. “Well, that’s something to be proud of.”

Her tipsy smile sharpens and she lifts one finger, jabbing it towards his face. “Wow, you really know how to alienate people, don’t you? Watch your mouth, you. Don’t think it’s escaped my notice that you weren’t invited, yet here you are. Like a bad smell.”

Robert looks away, shaking his head slightly. Aaron shifts awkwardly, then reaches out quickly to grab hold of Charity, steadying her before she ends up twisting her ankle or staggering into someone. 

“I didn’t know they were gonna do this,” he says. “It was a surprise. If I’d known, I would have invited you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Robert replies. “Look, about that drink. Maybe another time? We could go into town. Get away from the village for a bit.”

Aaron’s expression has gone vacant again, gaze fixed over Robert’s shoulder. His jaw clenches slightly.

“Aaron?” Robert prompts.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah. Another time, maybe. Look, I’ve just gotta…” Aaron carefully disentangles himself from Charity, neatly handing her over to Belle. “I’ve gotta go do something.”

Robert frowns, opening his mouth to reply, but Aaron’s already sliding past him. He turns to lean against the bar, watching as Aaron crosses the room, approaching the guy skulking in the corner. He isn’t surprised to recognise him from the scrapyard, but this time he gets a better look at him. He’s probably around Robert’s height, but built a little stockier, his muscles a little beefier. His hair is so dark it’s almost black, cropped short and curling slightly, and his nose is a little wonky from a break in the past. 

When Aaron joins him, the guy smirks, leaning forward. Robert doesn’t miss the tension in Aaron’s shoulders, the hardness to his jaw as he looks away, shaking his head slightly at whatever the guy says.

Robert catches Adam’s arm as he attempts to get past. “Oi,” he says. “Who’s that over there with Aaron?”

Adam follows Robert’s gaze and shrugs. “I dunno. Some bloke Aaron met in the nick years ago. Shane or something, I think.” He glances at Robert. “Why, what’s it to you?”

“They just don’t exactly seem friendly, that’s all,” he points out. “The guy looks dodgy.”

“Nah, he looks like a normal lad, what are you on about?” 

“Well, just…” Robert waves a hand slightly. “The way he’s dressed.”

“What, jeans and a hoodie? Alert the press. Aaron goes lurking around at night wearing those black hoodies all the time and he’s not some hooligan terrorising the village, is he?”

He pauses, tilting his head slightly. “Well, yeah, actually, Aaron was kind of a hooligan.”

Adam pulls a face. “Alright, fine, but he’s not anymore. Or he’s not as much of a hooligan anymore, whatever. Look, Aaron’s not worried about this bloke, so neither am I. And it’s not your place to worry about him anymore.”

“I’m always going to worry about him,” Robert replies. “He’s everything to me.” When Adam just shakes his head, he sighs. “Just keep an eye on him, yeah? Make sure he’s okay.”

“You say that like I’m not already watching out for him,” Adam snaps. “Like I haven’t been looking after him since well before you showed up on the scene. I’ve got this, Robert. Just back off.” 

He looks away, back over at Aaron and Shane. What he sees has his heart sinking into his gut, alarm bells ringing in the back of his head. Pushing away from the bar, he leans close, meeting Adam’s gaze again.

“Well, I would,” he says lowly. “If I hadn’t just seen that guy slip something into Aaron’s pocket.”

“You what?” Adam spins on the spot, looking over at Aaron. 

Shane’s already walking away. Robert watches Aaron scrub a hand over his face, sees the redness in his cheeks and the way his jaw hardens as he shakes his head slightly, and starts to make his way over. Aaron’s gaze cuts over to him and, impossibly, his expression gets even colder. He pushes his way towards the door, movements sharp and jerky, and he’s through it and out of the pub before Robert can reach him.

As if Robert has ever been the type to give up that easily. He follows, catching sight of Aaron already halfway down the road. He’s walking fast, shoulders squared, his anger palpable, and Robert has to almost sprint to catch up.

“Aaron,” he calls. “_Aaron_!”

Aaron whirls around sharply, hands curled into fists. “_What_, Robert? What do you want?”

Robert doesn’t stop until he’s close enough that their noses almost touch. “I want to know what’s in your pocket.”

He jerks back slightly. “What?”

“I saw,” he says, keeping his voice low, their heads ducked together so no one can overhear, even though the road is empty.. “What did he give you?”

“Nothing,” Aaron snaps. “Just leave it, yeah?”

“Do I have to search your pockets?”

The cold gleam in Aaron’s eyes is brutally familiar; Robert’s seen it before, when Aaron ended things with him, when he told Robert he disgusted him, when they first spoke after he told Chrissie about the affair. He steps back, spreading his arms slightly.

“Go on, then,” he says. His tone could crush diamonds. 

Robert doesn’t hesitate. He searches Aaron’s pockets one at a time, eventually curling his fingers around a small package. Foil crackles as he tugs it out, looking down at the object in his palm. He frowns. It’s a packet of chewing gum, already opened; a slim white piece is poking out from the torn foil. Robert stares at it for a moment in confusion before looking up at Aaron’s stony face.

“Peppermint,” Aaron says coldly. “My favourite. You happy? Or do you want to do a cavity search and all?”

“I didn’t…” Robert stumbles over his words, unsure what to say. “It just, it looked like he…well, I thought -.”

“You thought what?” he bites out, snatching back the packet. He lifts it to his mouth, using his thumb to pop the piece on top out onto his tongue. Snapping it between his teeth, he shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step backwards. “Just do one, Robert.”

There’s nothing Robert can say right now, nothing that will soothe the rage boiling inside Aaron, but he wants to try anyway, doesn’t want to let the other man out of his sight. He opens his mouth and takes a step forwards, but Aaron shakes his head, turning away. He walks off, not giving a single look back.

All Robert can do is watch him go.

***

“Well, someone looks miserable.”

Robert sighs, glancing over as Chrissie as she leaves David’s shop, a bag in her hand and a newspaper tucked under her arm. There’s a familiar sneer on her face as she switches direction from approaching her car to cutting him off as he heads towards the shop.

“Get lost, Chrissie,” he says.

“Witty as ever,” she remarks. 

“Look, I haven’t got time for this,” he snaps.

“What, too busy scraping whatever profit you can get from that dump you call a business?” she asks. “Tell me, what _is_ it like to be crashing on your sister’s sofa?”

“What, as opposed to you, living with your daddy still, being a single mum to some weird little brat?” he shoots back. “Tell you what, Chrissy, why don’t you get some use out of those shoes daddy bought you? Get back in your flashy car that daddy paid for, and, while you’re at it, maybe get some botox on daddy’s card, yeah? You’re starting to show some wear and tear.” He gestures to his own face. 

Her expression turns sour. “A jab at my age,” she says. “How original.” 

“What do you _want_, Chrissie?"

Her mouth tilts down slightly into a thoughtful expression before abruptly shifting to a sweet smile. She steps closer, tipping her chin so she can hold his gaze.

“I want you to suffer,” she says. “I want you to be miserable, every single day of your life. I want to make sure that living here in the village is absolute _hell_ for you after what you did.” 

“That’s a bit obsessive, isn’t it?” he replies easily. He ducks his head so their noses almost touch. “Pathetic, really. You sure you’re over me?”

“Oh, get over yourself, Robert,” she bites out.

She says more, but whatever it is, it washes right over him, because at that moment, he sees Aaron. He’s walking, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched and his body slanted against the sting of snow in the air. 

Shane’s walking with him, their heads bowed close together as they talk.

Chrissie follows his gaze. Her laugh is cruel. “And you say _I’m_ obsessed,” she says. “Looks like he’s moved on. I have to hand it to him, he’s got a good eye, hasn’t he? Can’t say he had good taste with you -.”

“You and him have that in common, then,” he points out coolly.

“Except I’m not a homewrecker,” she snips. “But him?” She nods in Shane’s direction. “The trackies don’t do him any favours, but he’s good looking, I’ll give him that. An upgrade on Aaron’s part, I’d say.”

He shouldn’t let her get to him, but her words hit their mark. Nothing else she could throw at him could get past the armour he’s spent years cultivating, but his vulnerable underbelly has always been Aaron. He’s pretty sure it always will be. He can feel his jaw clench and Chrissie gives a self-satisfied smirk, smelling blood in the water. 

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” she presses. “That after all that, he wants nothing to do with you now. He’s moved on and you’re still chasing after him like a lost puppy. _That’s_ pathetic.”

Robert lifts his lip in a snarl. “No, what’s pathetic here, Chrissie, is _you_. The way you panted after me when we got together, so desperate to keep hold of your boytoy that you’d do anything. Showering me with money, with gifts and tacky bullshit to keep me with you.”

“And you accepted all of that,” she retorts. “You stayed in my bed just to keep your greedy, gold digging hands on our cash.”

“Oh, come off it, Chrissy. Swanning about the village like you’ve got all the dignity in the world, but let’s be honest. Remember those hotel stays you booked, the tacky sex tricks you’d try? The lacy little knickers you’d buy in your pathetic attempts to keep me in them? Clinging on to me in desperation to keep me with you, when in reality, I was out warming your sister’s bed, or some bloke I picked up, or Aaron’s, because I wanted to fuck anyone _but_ you.”

She jerks back slightly, hurt and disgust written across her face. “My _sister_? You really are a nasty piece of work, aren’t you?”

“It’s been said.”

“I will not be bulled and intimidated out of this village by you,” she sneers. 

“Yeah? Well, right back at you, Chrissie. So get lost.”

Aaron and Shane are near them now, approaching the shop. Overhearing the viciousness in Robert’s tone, Aaron glances over, looking them both up and down before he shakes his head slightly. Robert pulls away from Chrissie. 

“Aaron,” he says. “Hold up.”

Aaron sighs but does, scuffing his shoe against the ground as he turns to face Robert properly.

Chrissy scoffs, bumping her shoulder against Robert’s as she shoves past him. “Keep running, little puppy,” she throws out on her way to her car.

Shane gives a friendly slap to Aaron’s arm. “Just think about what I said, mate. I’ll see you later.”

Robert watches him walk away, opening his mouth to ask, but Aaron beats him to it.

“Were you winding her up again?” He gestures towards Chrissie’s car as she drives away. “Sounded bad.”

“She started it,” Robert insists, realising belatedly just how childish it sounds.

Aaron’s gives a huff of laughter. There’s no humour in it. “Yeah, and you’re always happy to continue it, aren’t ya?” He shakes his head slightly. “I heard some of that. You sounded pretty nasty.”

“Hold on, are you defending her?” he demands, incredulous. “_She_ came up to _me_. And you should have heard the stuff she was saying about you!”

Aaron shrugs his shoulders up, gaze flicking away and back to Robert, his expression obnoxiously careless. “Yeah, like what?”

“She called you a homewrecker.”

He smiles belligerently. “Well, I sort of was, so.”

“What?” Robert frowns, staring at Aaron for a moment. “Hold on, is this…is this guilt?”

The thought is worrying. He knows just how badly Aaron handles guilt, and so soon after everything that happened with Gordon, it’s a recipe for pure disaster. If Aaron’s blaming himself, then Robert needs to know, needs to intervene before he, inevitably, curls in on himself and does something bad.

“Aaron,” he says lowly, fiercely. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“Well, let’s face it, I was more than happy to warm your cock, wasn’t I? It takes two to have an affair, so, I’m pretty sure half the blame _does_ lie with me.”

Hearing Aaron talk about them like that, so vulgar, so careless, like what they were, their time together, was nothing, Robert can’t deny that it hurts as equally as it antagonises him, stirring up rejection issues he can never manage to bury, roiling up his desire to lash out and hurt others more than they could ever hurt him. 

He takes a deep breath, trying his damndest to crush that urge. He needs to be calm. 

“Aaron, you can’t do this,” he says. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows slightly, shrugging with his mouth. He is calm, but it’s the kind that’s just as dangerous as his fury. “Why?” he asks. “You were more than happy to blame me, remember? Remind me of my fault in the whole thing and what would happen because of _my_ actions. You piled it all on me, used it to manipulate me and now, what? You’re telling me not to feel guilty?”

“Hold on,” Robert tries, lifting his hands slightly. “I know I did wrong, but I thought we were past all that. When you were running, I found you, remember? I tried to help. And you did wrong as well.”

Aaron scoffs. “And there we go again. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is _you_,” he lashes out. “And how you’re never happy unless you’re making others miserable.”

Robert grits his teeth, looking away. He takes a second to pull himself back together. “I thought we moved on from all of that. I was there for you, remember? With Gordon, with the self-harming, all of it. We forgave each other. We…we got close again. I thought…I thought we were okay.”

Aaron deflates, stepping back. He rubs a hand over his face, shaking his head slightly as he looks away. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was bang out of order. I appreciate everything you did for me, Robert, I do.”

His own frustration softens in response. He reaches out, resting his hands on Aaron’s elbows. Ducking his head, he tries to get him to meet his gaze. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing.” At Robert’s disbelieving look, he repeats more insistently, “Nothing, okay? It’s just been a shit day and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry, Rob.”

Robert swallows. He’ll never not be affected by Aaron calling him ‘Rob’. Normally, he hates the nickname, but from Aaron, it’s different. Whether it’s said casually, fondly, or gasped out in their most intimate moments, it always makes him feel weak-kneed and breathless.

“Look,” he says, “Can we just…let’s have a drink together later. Or you could come to mine.”

“You mean Vic’s,” Aaron mutters, but there’s a slight smile on his face.

“Nice, coming from the bloke who still lives with his mum,” he teases back. “So, is that a yes? We could order in a pizza or something.”

Aaron looks away, running a hand under his nose. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, alright. I’ll come over later.”

Robert can’t help his grin. “Okay. Great. Thank you.”

“Listen, I’ve gotta go, yeah?” Aaron steps back, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m supposed to be helping Adam at the scrapyard. But I’ll see you later.”

He nods, tucking his hands into his pockets as Aaron disappears down the street. He feels like he spends too much time watching Aaron walk away, but for once, he can’t deny the smile on his face as he does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: discussion of past infidelity, mention past near-death experiences and gunshot wounds, mention of guns and blood, mention of violence, alcohol, mention of self-harm, brief mention of drink-driving.

It takes him a good ten minutes to convince Victoria to clear out for a few hours.

She looks doubtful when he tells her why he wants her out of the way. “And you’re sure it’s a date?” she asks.

“Well, no, we didn’t…we didn’t call it that. But it’s something. I mean, he’s coming over. It’s a chance for us to chat and see where things go.” Robert rubs at the back of his neck. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is, if you’re both on the same page,” she hazards. “But if you’re not, it’ll be a disaster. Robert…”

“I know you’re worried -.” he starts.

“Worried?” she repeats incredulously. “Robert, look at what happened last time. So many people got hurt.” She reaches out, gripping his elbow. “You’re my brother and I want you to be happy. If he’s what makes you happy, then you know I support that. But Aaron’s been through a lot. I don’t want to see him get hurt again. And I don’t want to see _you_ get hurt. You’ve been moping around for ages. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, only to end up heartbroken all over again.”

“Isn’t it up to me to decide to take that risk?” Robert points out. “I know it won’t be easy. But, Vic, I’ve got to try. I mean, it’s Aaron.”

“And what about Adam? You know how he feels about you and Aaron.”

He pulls a face. “Right, yeah. Probably best not to mention tonight to him.”

She raises her eyebrows. “So now you want me to lie to my husband?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I just want a chance to talk to Aaron without Adam bursting in here with a crowbar.” 

Victoria sighs, shaking her head slightly. She mulls it over for a good minute before she finally throws up her hands. “Fine,” she concedes. “I can’t stop you and I probably wouldn’t even if I could. I haven’t seen you smile like that in ages. Just be careful, yeah?”

“Of course. And you’ll keep Adam out of the way?”

“I’ll take him into Hotten,” she says. “And I’ll text you when we’re on our way back.” 

“Thanks, Vic. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah, well, try and remember this for next time you’re being an idiot.”

He smiles back, giving her a quick hug. She pulls a face at it, acting all put out by the embrace, but he knows she likes it really, especially when, in the past, he’s been a bit stingy with them, not wanting to let anyone past his walls, even his sister.

True to her word, Victoria manages to coax Adam out of the house. It doesn’t take much, just the promise of dancing and drinks and a kebab on the way home, and another bribe that Robert really wishes he hadn’t overheard his sister offering to her bloke. Once they’re out of the way, he spends a couple of hours preparing, cleaning and cooking and making himself look presentable. 

There’s a knock on the door seconds after he puts the pizza in the oven. He takes one last look around to make sure everything is okay before he moves to the front door, swinging it open. Aaron’s on the other side, the tip of his nose a little pink from the cold, and Robert has the inexplicable, disgustingly sappy urge to lean in and kiss it. 

“Alright?” Aaron says.

“Yeah. Hi. I’m glad you came.”

“I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” he pauses, then raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Well, are you gonna let me in, or what?”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Come in.” Robert steps aside so Aaron can enter the house, closing the door behind him. “Can I get you a drink? Beer okay?”

“Yeah. Cheers.”

It feels like the first time in ages that they’ve been alone. In a village as small and gossip-ridden as Emmerdale, any chats they’ve had on the streets are almost guaranteed to be witnessed by at least one curtain-twitcher, and it seems like, lately, Adam’s always at the scrapyard whenever Robert goes up there.

He grabs two beers from the fridge, rummaging around in the drawer for the bottle opener. Popping the caps off both bottles, he hands one to Aaron, who nods slightly in thanks before taking a long drink.

“Pizza’s just gone in the oven,” Robert says. “I thought I’d cook. I hope that’s okay?”

Aaron shrugs. “I don’t mind frozen pizzas. I practically lived off ‘em for a while.”

He laughs slightly. “No, I mean, _cook_ cook.” 

“What?” Aaron frowns slightly, surprised. “As in the dough and everything?”

“Well, I didn’t make the cheese,” he jokes. “My culinary skills don’t extend that far. But, yeah, I made the pizza from scratch.” 

For a long moment, Aaron just stares at him. “Why?” 

“Because I thought it’d be nice?” Robert replies. “Do I need a reason?”

He looks away, lips thinning. “Robert…”

“Do you want to sit down? We could watch some telly or something? I think the darts is on.”

Aaron gives a surprised snort. “Darts?”

“I thought you liked darts?”

“A quick game in the pub, yeah,” he replies, but he drops down onto the couch and gets comfortable. He sighs. “I’m being a prat again, aren’t I? Sorry.”

“I take it your day didn’t get any less shit?” Robert hazards, sitting next to him.

“Not really, no.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offers. “I’ve heard I’m a good listener.”

Aaron scoffs. “I’ve literally never heard anyone say that about you. Ever.”

“Well, I am when it comes to you.”

He pauses, looking up to meet Robert’s gaze. “Robert, why did you invite me over?”

“I thought we could talk.”

“About?”

“Well, you know…us.” Robert clears his throat. “We haven’t spoken about it since just after the trial and I thought…well, I thought it’d be good to sit down and chat. I mean, you and me, Aaron, we’re…we’re inevitable, aren’t we?”

“Hold on,” Aaron deflects, trying to lighten the sudden seriousness of the mood. “Are you saying that I’m an easy thing?”

“I’m saying that I love you.” 

Aaron’s mouth snaps shut and he swallows, gaze searching Robert’s. He’d planned to take this slow, to just enjoy the evening, enjoy Aaron’s company. He’d planned on easing into the conversation and seeing where it went. But, as usual, when it comes to Aaron, all of his plans go flying straight out of the window, because he’s _here_, sat just inches away, and that hot, insistent need to kiss him is back.

So he does.

For a moment, Aaron doesn’t respond, mouth completely still against Robert’s own, and alarm snaps through him. But then his lips part and one hesitant hand comes up, fingers curling around Robert’s bicep as he shifts closer on the couch. It’s slow and slick, mouths sliding together like they were made just for this, just for each other, and a soft, happy moan rumbles in Robert’s throat as he cups Aaron’s face, kissing him deeper.

The dry lips and heat of Aaron’s mouth is familiar. The scrape of his beard under Robert’s palms and the hard press of his body, the scent of his deodorant and the taste of his toothpaste, all of it is familiar and perfect and it feels like _home_, kissing Aaron like he’s the most important thing in the universe.

Because he is.

Aaron’s hands move, fisting in Robert’s shirt, and he leans forward, easing Aaron onto his back on the couch until he’s on top, kissing his way down Aaron’s jaw and neck. It’s then that the hand on his stomach goes from encouraging to hesitant, pushing firmly.

“No, Robert, wait,” he murmurs.

He backs off. “Too fast?” he asks breathlessly.

“No,” Aaron shakes his head, expression tormented. “Look, Robert, we can’t do this, okay?”

“What?” 

“I mean it. We can’t…we can’t do this. This is why I’ve been trying to stay away from you, Robert.”

Hurt and panic tangles his guts up into knots. “Why?” he challenges. “Because you still want me? Because you still love me?” He leans back as Aaron sits up. “Why can’t we do this? There’s nothing in our way this time, nothing stopping us.”

Aaron sighs. “Right, so, what? We just go back to sneaking around? Dirty fumbles in the hay and holding hands when no one’s looking?”

Robert can’t help his incredulous scoff. “Hold on, you think I’m still trying to stay in the closet? I think any chance of that was pretty thoroughly blown out of the water, don’t you?”

Aaron looks away, shrugging. “So what?”

Robert ducks his head, trying to get him to meet his gaze. “You called my bluff once, asked me to go into the pub, order us both a pint and let everyone know about me and you. And I was too much of a coward to do it. But not anymore, okay? I _promise_. I’ll bend you right over that bar in front of everyone, if that’s what it takes.”

Aaron pulls a face. “Er, my mum runs the pub, so maybe not, eh?”

“You know what I mean.” Robert sighs. “Aaron, if it’s what you want, we can go there right now, walk in holding hands, kiss at the bar, announce it to the whole pub, or the village, or, hell, the whole world if you want to. Being with you…that’s not something I’m ashamed of anymore, Aaron. It’s something I want to shout from the rooftops. You’re _everything_ to me.”

He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s a bit late for that, Robert.”

“Why?” he asks desperately. 

“Why?” he repeats. “Because we’re bad for each other.”

“No. Maybe in the past, yeah, but now? If you just give us a chance -.”

“You put a gun to my head!” Aaron cuts him off, voice rising. “You were gonna _kill_ me.”

“I wasn’t going to pull the trigger,” Robert insists. “I couldn’t.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that, am I? After what you did to Katie, to Paddy?”

He grits his teeth, snapping back. “Well, what about you, blowing the affair to Chrissy? Destroying _everything_?”

“You know why I did that,” Aaron replies coldly.

“Yeah. In retaliation. Is that supposed to make you better than me? You tried to hide the gun when I got shot, remember?”

Anger stains Aaron’s cheeks red. “Because I thought my mum shot you!”

“I was bleeding out on the ground,” Robert seethes. He can still remember it, the pain, the terror and the cold and the realisation that he was dying, alone in the dark with someone who hated him. “I nearly died! And all you cared about was hiding that bloody gun.”

“I was protecting my mum,” Aaron shouts. “You would do the same for Vic. And I got banged up for it, remember?”

“And _I_ got you out!”

“Only after I’d already spent weeks of pure hell in there! You thought I’d done it. No, you were _convinced_ I’d done it. You shouted at me in court."

Robert looks away. He remembers that, too, the fear and anguish at the thought that it was Aaron, the only person he’s ever loved so devotedly, who shot him. Remembers how empty he’d felt, thinking that Aaron despised him enough to try to kill him. Remembers how he’d almost thought death would have been preferable to facing the knowledge that Aaron hated him that much. 

He remembers how it felt to realise that, despite all of that, despite the possibility that Aaron had almost killed him in cold blood, he still loved him and probably always would. 

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “And you told me that you wished I _had_ died. Do you know how much that hurt? Thinking you hated me so much that you’d try to kill me? Knowing that you would’ve been happy if I did die? I thought you loved me, but no one who loved me could do that.”

“I did love you,” Aaron replies. “I never _stopped_ loving you, you bastard, even when I hated myself for it. Even after everything you did. You nearly destroyed me, Robert, and it’s not like you cared about that.”

“I _did_ care!” Robert snaps. “It was killing me watching you fall apart.”

“Because of _you_,” he bites the words out precisely, eyes lit up with rage. “I was falling apart because of _you_.”

He swallows. “You can’t put all of it on me. That’s not fair.”

Aaron sighs, shoulders slumping. “I know that,” he says quietly. “I do. But don’t you get it? This is wrong, Robert. Healthy relationships don’t include arguing about hurting each other, or blaming each other over being shot, or threatening to kill one another!”

“Right, because your past is full of healthy relationships.” 

The words fly out, nasty and intended to hurt as much as possible; lashed out of him thanks to his hurt, his furious desperation and panic. Robert regrets them instantly.

Aaron’s face turns to stone, but his eyes are wild. In a second, he’s right in Robert’s face. “And that.” The words seethe between his teeth. “Throwing Jackson at me every chance you get, just to hurt me. When you have no idea, _no fucking idea_, what happened, what I went through, and how much it destroyed me. How much it _still_ destroys me.”

“I didn’t mean -.”

“Yeah, you did,” he hisses. “’Course you did. Because you know how to hurt me. You know it now and you knew it then, when you used it to try and manipulate me, to make me feel like dirt on the bottom of your shoe. And you wondered why I said I wished you were dead?”

It’s all getting torn apart right in front of him. Robert can feel their relationship burning to nothing, can taste the ash in the back of his throat, and he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to fix it.

“Aaron -.”

“But, hey, you want to talk about healthy relationships?” Aaron asks, and his face is lit up now, vindictiveness searing in his gaze. “Well, come on, then. Shall we talk about Katie? Shagging your brother’s missus? And how you tormented her, just to get to him? Or how about Chrissie? Fucking anything that moved behind her back, women, blokes, just because you wanted to. Because you liked the thrill of it, screwing around behind her back when you got bored. 

“It turned you on, didn’t it? Meeting me for dirty little fumbles in the hay while she was at home waiting for you. ‘Cause that’s what you do, Robert. You’re not happy unless you’re pissing off at least five people at once. You’re only happy when you’re making everyone around you miserable. You fucked over Chrissie, and continued to hurt her because of your stupid vendetta against her and her family, because of your greed for money. And when I wasn’t fun for you anymore, you turned on me, too. And you _enjoyed_ it.”

Robert feels sick. His eyes sting, tears sliding down his cheeks. “That’s not true,” he tries.

“I saw it in your face. You got me wound up, you saw just how much your words screwed with my head, and you had that nasty smirk on your face. You _revelled_ in it. You love it. That’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? That’s who you are, Robert, and you’re never going to change. You don’t _want_ to change. So do one. Get out of my face and get out of my life.”

Robert watches him get up, watches him storm for the door, and before he knows it, he’s on his feet too, catching up before Aaron can open it all the way. He reaches out, palm slamming the door shut.

He expects Aaron to spin around, to punch him or shout some more, but instead his shoulders sag, like all the energy’s been completely drained from him. He sighs, turning to face Robert, and he looks so fucking tired. Somehow, that’s worse than seeing the rage and disgust on his face.

“No,” Robert says firmly.

Aaron swallows. “Robert –.”

“_No_,” he repeats, harder. “Aaron, me and you, we’re never going to be just mates. I’ve never loved _anyone_ like I love you. I never stopped loving you, and I never _will_ stop. You’re it for me. You’re everything. I’ll wait forever for you if I have to.”

He looks away. His own eyes are red, tears streaking silently down his cheeks. “Robert,” he says again, voice cracking slightly.

“And I know you love me too,” Robert insists. “I _know_ you do. I get that you don’t trust me, that we’ve got stuff to work through, but we can’t get past it if we don’t try. But being mates? You know that will never work.”

“Then we have a clean break.”

For a moment, Robert’s sure the whole world goes completely still, and, with it, his heart. Panic coils down his spine, throbs behind his eyes as he stares at Aaron.

“Wait, what?” he manages. “Aaron…”

“We stay away from each other. Properly, this time. Whatever it takes.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I’m not…Aaron, _no_.”

“It’s done, Robert. I can’t take this anymore. We’re done.”

“Hold on,” Robert says, desperation sharpening his words. “Don’t I get a say in this? Don’t I get to be a part of this decision? I’m not just gonna walk away.”

“I can’t do this, Robert,” Aaron pleads. “I _can’t_. It’s messing with my head. So if you care about me -.”

“I _do_,” he insists. “I keep telling you. I love you.”

“If you care about me,” Aaron repeats. “Then you’ll listen to me, and you’ll stay away from me. A clean break, Robert. I mean it.”

The breath shudders out of Robert. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it.” Aaron sighs and leans in, pressing a brief, gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye, Robert.”

And then he’s gone, the door shutting quietly behind him, and Robert’s alone, the pieces of his heart shattered around him.

Slowly, he sinks down, back scraping against the wall, until he’s sat on the floor, head buried against his knees. He can’t do anything, can’t chase after Aaron or conjure up some brilliant plan to fix this. All he can do is cry.

***

Victoria finds him hours later, sat at the table in the kitchen, an overbaked pizza in front of him.

He doesn’t know how long exactly he’s been sitting there, just that when the oven timer started beeping, it took him forever to drag himself up and into the kitchen. He’d managed to shut off the timer and oven and grab a teatowel, retrieving the pizza before it burned to a crisp. He’d just about managed to drop the tray and towel onto the table before sinking into one of the chairs. 

“It didn’t go well, then, I take it?” Victoria asks gently.

Robert stares at his hands. “Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Adam appears at Victoria’s shoulder. “What’s this?”

Slowly, Robert looks up at him. He’s clearly a little drunk, cheeks flushed and swaying slightly, a bleary grin on his face. Inexplicably, Robert feels a surge of resentment. He doesn’t hate Adam, not really; he’s Aaron’s best friend and, despite their history and their many differences, Adam is putting up with Robert staying with him and Vic. But for some reason it still stings, seeing Adam have everything, seeing him happy with Victoria. He’s got it all and Robert has nothing. 

He knows it isn’t fair. He knows it stems from that need to lash out. His need to make other people miserable, like Aaron said, and if he gives in to it, then Aaron will have been right about him. So he bites back the venom that burns on his tongue and looks back down at his hands.

“Robert,” Victoria says quickly, tone bright. “He overestimated his abilities in the kitchen. It didn’t go well.”

“I dunno,” Adam replies, squeezing past her into the kitchen. “Looks alright to me.”

He grabs the slicer, cutting himself a huge triangle of cold, burnt pizza. Robert doesn’t stop him.

“Ugh,” Victoria says, nose wrinkling slightly in disgust. “How do even have room for that? You scoffed down a kebab and half my chips on the way home.”

“Babe,” he replies playfully. “There’s always room for pizza.” He takes a giant bite, then looks at Robert, mouth full as he says, “Eh, you may be a massive prat, but I’ve gotta hand it to you, this ain’t half bad.”

“Thanks,” Robert snipes. “I’ll try not to let that little ego boost go to my head.”

“See? Prat.” Adam turns away, kissing Victoria’s cheek. “I’ll see you upstairs, babe.”

She nods and waits until Adam’s footsteps on the stairs have receded before she moves to Robert’s side. She places her hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shakes his head. “No. No, I just want to be alone for a bit.”

She squeezes his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry, Rob.”

Robert closes his eyes, nodding once. She gives one last pat and quietly leaves, giving him the space he needs. 

He’s used to being alone. But that never makes him feel any less empty. 

***

He wakes up the next morning full of resolve.

Victoria watches him suspiciously as he busies himself with making tea and toast, but, with Adam pottering around getting ready for work, she keeps quiet. She narrows her eyes at Robert as he slathers some jam onto his piece of toast and he grins back, shrugging one shoulder.

“Right, I’m off,” Adam says, grabbing his keys from the table as he leans over to smack a kiss to Vic’s lips. “See you later, babe.”

Robert turns towards him. “Adam, hold up.”

He pauses, spinning his set of keys around one finger. “What?”

“I know I said I’d be up at the scrapyard today to go over the accounts,” he says. “But I’m going to give it a miss. Give Aaron some space, you know?”

Adam shrugs. “Do what you want,” he replies obnoxiously. “But Aaron won’t be up there today, so.”

“Wait, what? Why? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s just taking a day off.” He raises his eyebrows. “Is that a problem?”

“No. No, of course not, I just…” Robert sighs. “Fine, I’ll be up later this morning.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Adam glances once more at Victoria, then heads out. The front door clatters shut loudly behind him.

“So, you’re actually going to give Aaron some space?” Vic asks, surprise clear on her face. “You’ve finally seen sense?”

“It’s what he asked for,” Robert replies. “Besides, my life doesn’t revolve around Aaron. If he needs a break, then, I can deal with that.”

“I think this is a bit more than a break, Rob.”

He sighs. “I know. I just mean…” He trails off, shrugging slightly.

“Look, I’m glad you’ve finally clocked on to the fact that your life doesn’t and _shouldn’t_ revolve around him. I know you love him, but you can’t pin everything on him. So, you mean it, yeah? You’ll leave him be?”

“Well, I sort of do need to talk to him.”

She groans, throwing her hands up slightly. “Robert!” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “I’m not burying my head in the sand, okay? I got the message loud and clear last night. I just want to let him know that, when he’s ready, _if_ he’s ever ready, then I’m more than happy with being his mate. Nothing more.”

“And you can actually handle that, yeah?” she asks dubiously. “’Cause, no offence, but you were a right mess when I got home last night.” 

“I can handle it,” he says firmly. “I’d rather be in his life as his friend than not be in his life at all.”

For a long moment, she just looks at him, gauging if he truly means it. Finally, she sighs and nods. “Well, alright, good. But don’t go chasing after him to tell him that. He asked for space, so, give it to him. Everything else can wait.”

He nods. “Yeah. I know.”

She checks the time and quickly gulps down the rest of the tea as she gets to her feet. “I am happy to see a smile on your face, though. It’s about time you cheered up a bit, you muppet.”

He laughs slightly. “Cheers, Vic.”

***

Adam’s busy in the yard when Robert arrives mid-morning.

Hunched over a shell of a car, he glances up as Robert approaches. True to his word, Aaron isn’t there. Adam doesn’t seem to mind being left to handle the business on his own for a bit, but Robert can admit that the place feels weird without Aaron’s steady, often sullen presence. 

Adam watches Robert’s glance around and snorts. “I told you, Grumpy isn’t around,” he says, straightening. He grabs a rag, wiping oil off his hands. 

“Right,” Robert replies. “I’ll just be in the office, then.”

“Hang on.”

Sighing, he turns back, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “What?”

“You used to be a mechanic, right?” 

“A long time ago, yeah.”

“Mind taking a look under the hood?” Adam gestures to the car. “Aaron didn’t tell me what I’m looking for and I’m kind of at a loss.” At Robert’s raised eyebrows, he snips, “Unless you’re rusty.”

“As if. Get me some gloves and you’re on.”

As Adam disappears to find a spare set of gloves, Robert peels off his jacket, not wanting to risk any damage to the expensive leather. It’s freezing cold and overalls would be a hell of a lot warmer and would protect his clean shirt, but he isn’t going to give Adam the satisfaction of asking to borrow a pair. He knows Adam would jump at the chance to rib him about his vanity. 

Adam returns, tossing him a pair of gloves. They look like they’ve seen better days, but they’ll do the job, so Robert tugs them on before ducking under the hood of the car to take a look. Adam joins him. 

He knows the younger man is gearing up to something. He might not be as experienced a mechanic as Aaron or even Robert, but he knows his way around a car, and he’s sorted parts from plenty of scrap heaps on his own before. The ruse is about as subtle as a sledgehammer and it’s almost insulting, but Robert’s curious enough to know what game Adam’s running to play along for now. 

Unsurprisingly, it takes less than a minute for Adam to speak up.

“So, what happened last night, then?”

“I burnt a pizza,” he replies mildly. “Didn’t stop you scoffing it down, though.”

Adam shakes his head. “I know you think I’m stupid, but, unless you were planning to impress Gordon Ramsey, there’s no way you were looking that upset over a blooming pizza.” When Robert doesn’t reply, he raps his knuckles on the side of the car. “Look, Aaron popped round earlier, before you and Vic got up.”

Robert’s head snaps up. “He did? What did he say?”

“He didn’t give any details or anything, just said that it was best you and him avoided each other for a while,” he replies. “Said he needs to sort his head out. What happened?”

Even though there’s no accusation in Adam’s tone, Robert feels himself bristle all the same. “I didn’t hurt him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know.”

The conviction in Adam’s voice surprises him into silence. He looks over at the other man, hands gone still in the guts of the car’s engine. Adam shrugs slightly, clearly uncomfortable.

“Look, despite what you might think, I don’t actually hate ya,” he says.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I won’t lie and say I’m your biggest fan,” he allows. “I don’t trust you. I think that’s fair, given your history. But you were there for Aaron. When none of the rest of us saw it, you were there. I missed what was happening to my best mate, but you were there, you saw it, and you helped. You stuck by him throughout the whole thing. I appreciate that. And if Chas can give you a chance, well, then, so can I.”

“Right. Well, thanks, I suppose. There’s nothing to give me a chance for, though. Aaron’s done with me.”

“I’m just trying to get you to understand that what I’m about to say isn’t out of hatred or disapproval. I’m not trying to warn you off just because I don’t want you around him.” 

Robert sighs. “What are you about to say, then?”

“That you really should listen to him. Give him space.”

He waves a hand around, frustrated. “Have I not already agreed to do that? What do you think I’m doing?”

“I know, but you need to _keep_ giving him space.” Adam pushes a hand through his hair. “I mean it, Robert.”

Alarm zips down Robert’s spine. “Why?” When Adam doesn’t reply, he presses, “Do you think he might hurt himself again?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, he isn’t. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s not spiralling, not like that. But this Shane bloke…he’s been hanging around a lot and there’s something well dodgy about him, okay? Aaron says he’s his mate, but whenever they hang out, he looks so off. I’m watching his back, you know that. We all are. But he’s obviously got something on his mind right now and he doesn’t need more on his plate. So leave him well alone for a bit, until he’s ready to talk to you.”

Robert looks away, setting his jaw. He doesn’t like it. There’s something shifty about Shane and if something is going on, something that might cause Aaron to relapse again, then he wants to step in before it goes that far. But it’s not his place anymore. As much as he hates it, Adam’s right; if he gets involved, he’ll probably end up stressing Aaron out more, and he doesn’t want to be a reason for Aaron withdrawing into himself. Not again.

“And,” Adam hesitates. “Okay, look. If you see anything off, if you think…if you think he might be hurting himself again, you’ll tell me, yeah?”

“What, so you trust me with that?” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his tone.

Adam sighs. “We missed it once. As much as I don’t like thinking about it, we could miss it again. But you saw it. So if you see it again…just tell me, or Chas, or even Vic if it’s easier. The important thing is that we know. That we can help him.”

Robert looks down at his hands, still resting on the engine of the car. He already knows what his answer will be. Hell, he didn’t even need Adam to ask him; he’s _always_ looking, always checking, terrified of seeing Aaron go back to that place.

“I’ll tell you if I notice anything,” he says.

Adam exhales slowly. “Thanks.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

“I know.”

Robert straightens, pushing away from the car. He peels off the gloves, tossing them so they land half-spilled over the side of the hood. 

“The carburettor’s fucked. There’s no way you can sell it. The rest should be good, though.” He pauses, raising his eyebrows. “But you already knew that.”

Adam shrugs, mouth pulling into a belligerently innocent expression. “Dunno what you’re talking about, mate.”

Robert scoffs. “You’re really not a good liar, you know that?”

“Maybe I should start taking lessons from you, then.” But there’s no bite in his tone and his dark eyes are sparkling with humour.

He smirks back. “Save the banter for someone you might actually have a chance at keeping up with, yeah? You’re out of your league, kid.”

***

He spends most of the afternoon going over the accounts. By the time he’s done, it’s starting to get dark, and the air is thick with freezing rain. The droplets feel like tiny shards of ice on his skin and he practically sprints from the portacabin to his car, hunching his body against the bitterly cold wind.

His plan is to go home, shovel some hot food into his belly and get an early night, but when he sees the warm glow spilling out from the windows of the Woolpack, he finds he doesn’t want to be alone. He knows it probably isn’t the best idea, but after his chat with Adam, he wants to get a glimpse of Aaron. He won’t bother him, won’t talk to him, but he just needs to see for himself, needs to check that he hasn’t got that empty look in his eyes, that cagey weariness about him.

He parks outside Vic’s and walks down the road to the pub. It’s packed out inside, full of villagers seeking a hot fire, stodgy winter food, and the comforting warmth of alcohol in their bellies. 

Chrissy and Lachlan are sat in one corner. She catches sight of him and her expression drops into a scowl and Lachlan rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he leans back. Fortunately, neither of them pipe up as he approaches the bar, squeezing past Ross and Pete arm wrestling and Doug and Eric chatting so he can order a drink.

Victoria and Chas are behind the bar, trying to keep up with the demand. Robert catches Vic’s eye, raising his eyebrows, and she pulls a face.

“Charity let us down, didn’t she?” she says. “And no one else can cover, so here I am.”

“Yeah,” Marlon snipes as he ducks in from the back, loaded down with plates of food. “Instead of where she should be, which is out the back helping me.” 

“Yeah, we get it, Marlon,” Chas snaps, stress evident in her voice as she pulls a pint. “You’re not the only one busy here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“It wasn’t my sister who blew off her shift at the last minute.”

“Oi, watch it,” she warns. 

Robert smiles slightly, unable to help his amusement at Marlon’s exaggerated scowl as he rounds the bar to deliver the food to patrons. Victoria catches sight of his expression and narrows her eyes at him.

“Unless you want to help out,” she says. “I’d suggest you keep whatever you’re gonna say to yourself.”

He leans back, holding his up innocently. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he swears. “I just wanted to order a drink.”

“Right,” she says, dubious, but reaches for a pint glass.

“Ah, whisky, actually. Cheers.”

She pauses. “Why?”

“Do you interrogate every customer who tries to order a drink?”

“Only the ones that have been walking around the village looking like a kicked puppy,” she replies. 

He sighs. “I’m fine, Vic. Really. I just fancy something a bit more warming. It’s bloody freezing out there.”

“Alright,” she allows. She swaps the pint glass for a snifter, pouring him a finger of whisky. She places it on the bar, knowing that he prefers it at room temperature with no ice or fiddly flourishes. 

Robert slaps a crumpled note down. “Keep the change.”

She visibly brightens. “Cheers.” 

Another patron waves a hand to get her attention and she rolls her eyes, looking harried as she goes over to take his order. All of the stools are taken, so Robert finds space at the corner of the bar, leaning against it with his hand curled around his glass. It’s better warmed up from his body temperature; it brings out the flavours and aromas.

He’d once told Aaron that and received a snort and a “pompous git” for his efforts. He can’t help but smile at the memory of Aaron deliberately mixing his good whisky with a can of cheap, 50p coca cola from the corner shop, just to horrify him. 

The first glass goes down smoothly, spreading heat from his belly and out into his limbs, finally chasing away the lingering chill from the brutal winter outside. He orders another, this time from Chas, and she eyes him for a moment before turning away to pour the drink. 

Aaron still hasn’t appeared. Usually, he’s slouched at the bar, talking with his mum or Paddy, or he’ll play darts with Adam, but Adam’s busy mucking about with Moira and Cain at one of the tables. There’s no glimpse of Aaron out the back, either, so he’s either locked himself away upstairs, or he’s out.

Chas catches sight of his quick, searching glance as she turns back around and she snorts, setting the glass down a touch harder than necessary.

“If it’s Aaron those beady eyes of yours are looking for, then you’re wasting your time. He’s not here.”

Out, then. He knows better than to ask, but, naturally, he does anyway. “Where is he?”

Chas shrugs. “I told you. Not here.”

Robert runs his tongue along his teeth, squashing the swell of frustration at her smug expression. Vic catches sight of his face and sighs.

“He’s visiting Liv and her mum,” she says. She gives a sheepish shrug at Chas’s glare. “Come off it, Chas. He wasn’t going to drop it until he knew. And he promised to give him space. _Didn’t_ you?” She adds with a pointed look at him. 

He nods once. “Yes.”

“Fine,” Chas snips. “Yeah, he’s in Skegness.” 

“What?” Robert demands. “Why?”

From his position a few spaces down the bar, Paddy laughs slightly. “Because she’s his sister?” he offers. “And he loves her and wants to spend time with her? Not everyone is as cold hearted as you, Robert.”

By now, he’s used to Paddy’s digs, and more than able to ignore them. He looks at Chas. “Why?” he repeats.

Her eyes are hard. “I think you know why,” she says flatly. 

So Aaron told her about last night and what happened. Robert isn’t surprised and he isn’t bothered by her newly refreshed antagonism towards him. He can’t really blame her, as irritated as he is by it. He doesn’t care that she knows, either, or that she’s back to hating his guts thanks to him messing up again. All he cares about is the fact that Aaron has left the village.

Because of him. 

He’s on his feet before he has chance to think his decision through, pushing past David as he steps into the pub.

“Oi, watch it,” he says, but Robert isn’t listening.

He isn’t surprised to hear footsteps behind him as he walks fast towards his car. He ignores Adam’s shout and the sound of them getting closer, focused on one thing and one thing only. They catch up to him just as he reaches his car.

“Rob,” Vic shouts. “_Robert_! What are you doing?”

He doesn’t turn to face her. “Unlocking my car, what does it look like?”

“To go where?” 

“Disneyland,” he snips. “I fancied a chat with Mickey Mouse.”

Her hand closes around his arm, turning him to face her. Adam lingers a couple of steps back, arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face. 

“Robert,” Vic says firmly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what?” Robert challenges, and she raises her eyebrows.

“Like go to Skegness.”

“Did you know?” he demands. “This morning, in the kitchen, did you already know he’d left?”

She ignores the question. “I mean it, Robert! Going there is the worst idea right now.”

“I need to see him, Vic.”

“Well, he doesn’t want to see you!” She throws her hands up in the air, then sighs. “He went away for a reason, Robert. He needs space. The best thing you can do is give him that.”

“And if he hurts himself?” 

“This isn’t the first time he’s gone away for a bit to get his head sorted,” she tells him, tone softening. “He’ll be okay. He’s doing the right thing for himself.” 

Robert curls his fingers into his palms. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Then that’s his choice,” she points out. “But going down there isn’t going to help anyone. It’ll just make things worse.”

“I can’t…” He swallows, closes his eyes. “I can’t just not see him, Vic.”

“Tough. Like it or not, you have to respect his choice. If you really care about him, you’ll leave him be.” When he doesn’t reply, she shakes her head slightly. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work. Just…just don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

Robert stays silent and she doesn’t hide her disappointment as she turns away, jogging back towards the pub. Adam lingers, gaze steady on Robert, expression neutral.

“You just downed a glass of whisky back there,” he says. “There’s no way you’re driving. I’ll take those keys off you if I have to.”

Robert feels his lip curl up. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”

Adam just raises his eyebrows, and Robert is reminded that, as much as Adam is the calmer one, as much as he balances out Aaron, he can be just as dangerous if provoked. He’s no stranger to a scrap. If he really wanted, he probably could get the keys from Robert without much struggle.

“So, our chat earlier, at the scrapyard,” Robert says. “It’s funny how Aaron leaving never came up.”

Adam shrugs. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You didn’t think it was relevant?” he repeats incredulously. “Are you for real?”

“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re wasting your time.”

“Shocker,” he bites out.

“Look,” Adam says, refusing to be baited by Robert’s anger. “If I’d have told you, you would’ve done exactly what you’re doing now. You’d have gone off to find him and talk to him, and you would’ve cocked everything up again. I wouldn’t have been able to talk you down, either, you know that as well as I do. But I knew Vic _would_.”

He sets his jaw, looking away. His anger is withering, starved by the lack of reaction from Adam, and suddenly, he’s just cold and weary. 

“You’re right,” he allows.

Adam tilts his head slightly. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Bold words from the bloke half the village hates,” he replies easily.

“I’m not going to say it again,” Robert mutters. “But I get why you didn’t say anything. I’m not going to go after him.”

“Good.” Adam takes a step back, then pauses, eyeing him for a second. “Look, this isn’t just a chance for Aaron to get his head sorted. It’s a chance for _you_ to sort yourself out and all.”

Robert sighs. “Yeah,” he concedes. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Just…think about it, yeah?” Adam shoves his hands into his pockets and turns his back, walking away.

Robert looks down at the keys in his hand, but he knows he’s not going to get in the car, knows that, as much as he wants to, he isn’t going to drive to Skegness. Vic and Adam are right; he’d just fuck everything up again. He owes it to Aaron to give him the space he needs.

Adam’s not wrong about him needing to sort himself out, too. He’s made a lot of mistakes in his life and the ones he’s made with Aaron are the ones he regrets the most. He won’t screw it up again. 

Regardless of whether Aaron will ever accept him back in his life, the best thing Robert can do is change for the better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a pretty heavy conversation at the end of this chapter, so quite a few content warnings: brief mentions of Robert being shot, discussion of past infidelity, mention of the incidents where Chrissie locked Robert in the barn and doused him in gasoline and her lighting fire to the car, mention of Gordon and past child sexual abuse, mention of what happened to Katie, mention of Robert holding the gun to Aaron's head, discussion of Jackson, discussion of past internalised homophobia (and some derogatory language involved with that), discussion of past abuse, discussion of Jackson's accident and assisted suicide, discussion of self harm, discussion of suicide, discussion of self-hatred, mention of manipulation and toxicity, discussion of prison, blades, homophobia and violent assault.
> 
> It's a bit of a long list, but I hope I got everything. Let me know if I missed any possible triggers <3

He’s up bright and early the next morning.

He goes for a run, something he doesn’t often indulge in. He isn’t unfit by any means; he keeps in shape and he enjoys working out, enjoys the rush of endorphins and the way his mind goes blissfully silent for a while. Generally, though, he prefers other forms of fitness than running. But he takes a leaf out of Aaron’s book, taking a path through the woods to try and clear his head.

The village is just starting to wake up when he gets back, shaking off the frost and silence of the night. Slowing down to a light jog, he slips his phone from the strap on his arm, checking his stats. He can’t run a mile as fast as he used to, but his time isn’t bad.

“Oi, Sugden.”

The voice is vaguely familiar, low and scratchy. Robert frowns, turning, and can’t help the flicker of irritation in his gut when he sees Shane approaching him. He just doesn’t trust the bloke one bit, especially now he knows Adam’s suspicious of him, too.

“Alright?” Shane says once he’s close. “Out for a run?”

“What gave it away?” Robert snarks. 

He just grins, showing straight white teeth. He _is_ good looking, well-defined, with a sharp jaw and clear grey-blue eyes. The hint of a crook to his nose from a past break somehow adds to his looks rather than detracting from them. But he’s not the type of guy Robert would ever go for. It isn’t his appearance; he’s screwed around with plenty of men with similar features in the past. No, it’s the look in his eyes, the danger leashed behind his smile.

It isn’t the same as Aaron’s blistering brand of unpredictability. This danger, this warning, doesn’t invite Robert to dig deeper, doesn’t draw him in and fill him with heat like Aaron’s does. This guy is nothing like Aaron. He’s dangerous, pure and simple, and it only takes one look at his smile for Robert to know it.

“You seen Aaron about?” Shane asks casually.

“Why would I?”

His smile widens. “Come off it. A village as small as this, it didn’t take long to hear about his dirty little affair with you.” 

Robert looks at Shane’s throat and imagines wrapping his fingers around it, imagines _squeezing_, but his tone is neutral as he replies, “So what?”

Shane shrugs. “So, do you know where he is or not?” 

Robert smiles. He knows it isn’t a nice smile. “Sorry, no idea. But if I see him, I’ll be sure to let him know you’re looking for him.”

He holds Robert’s gaze, eyes sharp. “Cheers,” he replies after a moment. “I’ll let you get back to your run.”

“How do you know Aaron, anyway?”

Shane pauses. “I met him years back,” he replies. “On the streets. We were good mates. Had each other’s backs, you know?”

“Oh, really? Funny, ‘cause he’s never mentioned you,” Robert says casually. 

“Yeah, well, we fell out of touch after he buggered off without a word, didn’t we? I didn’t see him again until he got remanded at Hotten for skipping bail. We had each other’s backs then, too. Had to, in there. He got let off and I had the rest of my sentence left to serve, so we didn’t see each other after that. Until the next time, anyway.”

He frowns. “The next time?”

“Yeah. A few months back, when he was in prison?” Shane gestures to him with a friendly smile. “You remember, right? I mean, it was your murder he was up for, weren’t it?”

“I’m still alive and breathing, so, no,” he replies coolly. 

“Right. Well, no offence, mate, it’s good to see you survived and all, but I have you to thank for me and Aaron meeting up again. You getting shot was a blessing, ‘cause I happened to be remanded at Hotten prison not long after Aaron rocked up there. Nice coincidence, ain’t it?”

Robert fights the urge to clench his teeth, unwilling to let the prick see that he’s getting to him. “Just great,” he agrees.

“He was let out a bit before me, but when I got out, I reckoned I’d look him up, maybe visit him. And here I am. ‘Cause mates look out for each other, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” he says. “They do.”

Shane grins. “Anyway, see you around, mate.” He claps him on the arm and walks away, a swagger in his step.

Robert can feel a familiar sinking in his gut, the snap of adrenaline down his spine that signals how close he is to spiralling, to losing it to the rush of anger inside him. He fights back the urge to lash out, teeth gritted as he watches Shane go. 

He only jerks out of it when Adam appears at his side, hands tucked into the pockets of his puffer vest and a frown on his face.

“What was that all about?” 

“He asked me if I’d seen Aaron.”

“Huh,” Adam mutters, shrugging when Robert looks at him. “I’m just thinking, if they’re such good mates, how come Aaron didn’t tell him he was heading out of town for a while?”

“Yeah,” Robert agrees. “Did you know he was in prison at the same time as Aaron, after my shooting?”

“What? No, Aaron didn’t say anything about that.”

“Apparently, it’s thanks to me that they’re friends again,” he says. “Which means that if Aaron is in trouble with Shane…”

“I’m pretty sure it’s thanks to whoever shot you,” Adam points out. “So, don’t go there, alright?”

“Why not?”

“Because when Aaron feels guilty, he turns it on himself,” he replies evenly. “But you? You lash out at everyone else. And no one needs that right now.”

“Get fucked,” he says, but he can admit Adam has a point. 

Adam just smirks and starts to walk away, but he pauses when Robert calls his name, glancing back. 

“If you hear from Aaron, let me know, yeah?”

He scoffs. “Not a chance, mate.” This time he doesn’t look back as he leaves.

Robert supposes he should have expected that.

***

A week and a half drags by with no word from Aaron.

Robert knows that Chas and Adam get regular updates; Victoria tells him. She doesn’t give him any details, doesn’t betray Adam’s confidence like that, but she does assure Robert that Aaron’s doing okay.

Surprisingly, outside of checking in with Victoria, Robert finds himself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts and worries about Aaron, which is probably a good thing. Between sorting out the legal paperwork for a local haulage start-up he’s agreed to back and checking in with a couple of his other investments, he’s nicely distracted.

He’s always been good at business. He knows he has the cold efficiency and cunningness for it. Business is one of the few ventures where he can turn his less pleasant traits towards something for good and he enjoys it, revels in the cut-throat nature of his work. Besides, he needs to start seriously thinking about his bank statement. The sooner he gets money behind his name, the better, especially as he’s eager to move out of Vic’s.

Ironically, despite Chas and Paddy’s attempts to ensure Robert won’t go anywhere near Aaron, he’s actually the first one to see him when he gets back.

He’s crossing over the road on his way to the shop when he sees the taxi pull up outside the Woolpack. Aaron climbs out, handing the driver some money, and grabs a backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. He looks good, face a little flushed from the cold but otherwise healthy and happy as he gives the taxi a friendly tap on the boot when it pulls away again.

He looks up, catches Robert’s gaze, and there’s a moment where time stretches out between them, everything else blurring into the background as they just stare at each other.

Then Robert offers a nod and a small wave in greeting and the moment is over. Aaron nods back, mouth turning into a slight smile that’s half-greeting and half-gratitude, and then looks away, heading into the pub.

Tearing his gaze away, Robert jogs the rest of the way across the road before the taxi can run him over. Unfortunately, Ross is hovering outside the shop, coffee cup in hand, and he smirks when Robert sees him.

“Trouble in paradise?” he taunts.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” Robert returns easily. “Like, I dunno, shooting someone?”

His grin drops and he jerks forward. “Oi,” he warns. “Keep your voice down, yeah?”

Robert just smiles, offering a wink, and shoulders past him. He’d forgotten how much winding someone like Ross up could brighten his day. 

He definitely hadn’t forgotten how much a run in with Chrissie could ruin it, though.

“Aaron’s back, then,” she remarks, gaze on the row of sandwiches in the shop fridge.

“I thought I sensed evil and, look at that, here you are, the resident she-devil.” He replies. “Come to terrorise the village?” 

She sighs, looking skywards for a second. “Not today, Robert.”

“You started it.”

“I was just asking about Aaron,” she says tightly. “That’s all.”

“Why? What’s it got to do with you?”

“Lachlan said he left the village for a bit,” she replies.

Robert shrugs slightly. “And, again, what’s it got to do with you?”

“Oh, forget it,” she says, shaking her head.

She pushes past him and he starts to reach out, starts to open his mouth to press further, to push the right buttons so she’ll tell him what made her ask about Aaron. But he remembers Aaron’s words, remembers his accusation that Robert’s never happy unless he’s antagonising others, and he snaps his teeth shut.

***

He avoids the Woolpack for two days.

On the third, Vic rolls her eyes at him when she sees him on the couch, laptop and paperwork sprawled across the coffee table in front of him. 

“Could you take up any more room?”

“Hold on,” he replies. “Let me just grab that folder over there and we can find out.”

“Is there nowhere else you can do that?” she asks. Her expression softens when he sighs. “It’s just, I was sort of planning a romantic night in with Adam. You could go to the cafe?”

Robert glances at his watch. “It’ll be shut now.”

“Okay, well, what about the pub?”

“Aaron might be there.”

She sits on the arm of the sofa. “So? I know you’re giving each other space, but it isn’t fair for you to avoid every single place he might be. You live here too, Rob. You don’t have to talk to each other, but you’re gonna have to learn to be in the same room as each other, at least.” She reaches out, giving his shoulder a solid pat. “Besides, it’ll be good for you. The sooner you confront the reality of seeing him, the quicker you’ll get over him.” 

He chews it over for a minute, but he already knows what his answer will be. She’s right; he can’t avoid the Woolpack, or Aaron, forever. And he’s infringing on her enough without getting in the way of her plans with Adam. 

“Alright,” he concedes. “Fine.”

“Brilliant,” she says. “And, hey, look. Let’s go out next weekend, yeah? We can check out that place in town.”

“What place?” he asks suspiciously.

“Any place you like,” she answers quickly. “I just thought, well, you know. They say the best way to get over someone is to get under -.”

“Please,” he interrupts. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“So? What do you think?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Vic smiles, patting him once more before she gets up. Robert watches her disappear into the kitchen, then turns his attention to the paperwork in front of him. Carefully, he gathers it together, making sure it’s stacked in order before stashing it in a thick leather folder. Tucking it into his laptop bag with his computer, he grabs his jacket and calls out a “see you later!” to Vic as he steps out into the cold.

The air is damp, the ground icy underneath his feet, and he tucks his chin into the collar of his jacket as he walks, trying to ward off the biting chill. It’s a relief to reach the pub, to step into the thick warmth of the place, heated by dozens of bodies and the fire crackling in the hearth. 

It’s busy and noisy; Aaron and Adam are playing darts, laughing wildly, and Chas and Charity are behind the bar, joking and chatting with patrons. It’s not exactly the most ideal of places to get some work done, but Robert finds he doesn’t mind too much. As much as Andy teases him about being a city bloke these days, there’s something about the rural local pub that’s comforting to him. 

He watches as Adam checks the time and then drains the rest of his pint, giving Aaron a friendly clap on the back as he heads for the door to meet Vic. Aaron takes his own pint to the bar, sitting on one of the stools, so Robert sits at the booth closest to the toilet doors, giving the other man a wide berth. He powers up his laptop, clicking open the spreadsheet he’d been working on, and spreads his paperwork across the table, turning his attention to them.

Despite the noise, it’s surprisingly easy to get lost in the tedium of his work. This is the boring bit of business, the part he can easily manage but gets bored with quickly; he prefers the adrenaline of meetings, the visceral triumph of securing a deal, the real grit and bruise of business. He’s always been a shark, always had an affinity for scenting blood in the water when it comes to the right deals and how to get his own way, and the monotony of paperwork can never compare to the ruthless navigation of a hostile acquisition. But it’s better than playing third wheel to Vic and Adam, or watching telly with a can of beer all by himself.

When his eyes start to feel strained, he rubs at them, sitting back to take a quick break. Normally, he’d have more sense than to leave his laptop vulnerable, but Edna and Pearl are in the booth behind him, and, since Ross is nowhere in sight, Robert doesn’t mind taking the risk; he trusts pretty much everyone else in the pub not to try and steal anything. Getting up, he moves to the bar, flagging down Charity to order a beer.

“You look busy,” she remarks as she pulls the pint.

Robert looks up at her, gauging her expression. She’s a Dingle and her rocky relationship with Chas seems to currently be in the good stage, but there’s no hostility in her face. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Paperwork. Someone’s got to do it.”

“For the scrapyard?” she asks, setting his beer on the bar. 

“What? No, for an investment. Aaron and Adam sort the paperwork for the yard, I just check the accounts every month.”

“Really?” she smirks slightly. “I didn’t know they could count.”

“Oi,” Aaron speaks up from his space a little further down the bar. “Watch it.”

Charity grins and Robert can’t help his own amusement. He glances over at Aaron – and pauses, smile instantly dropping. Aaron’s already looking away, attention focused back on the person next to him, brows drawing together slightly as he talks.

To Chrissie.

Frowning, Robert glances at Charity. “What’s that all about?”

She looks over and shrugs, leaning against the bar. “No idea,” she replies. “Bit weird, though. She’s smiling and you know what they say. Never trust the devil’s smile.”

He huffs a small breath of laughter and she grins, winking as she accepts the money he hands her. Curling his fingers around his glass, Robert considers returning to his table and his work, but he can’t. He’s worried about whatever game Chrissie is playing. He has no idea what she’s got up her sleeve now, but he doesn’t trust her, not at all, and he doesn’t like that her focus is on Aaron. She can throw whatever she likes at Robert, but Aaron is different. 

Aaron doesn’t look concerned. He doesn’t look exactly happy, either, but that’s not really any different from any other day; Aaron Dingle turns sullen into an artform, enough so that when he does smile genuinely, it’s like sunshine splintering apart a storm. His posture is loose and relaxed, though, and he’s nodding at whatever Chrissie’s saying to him.

Eventually, Chrissie pushes away from the bar, offering Aaron a polite nod before she heads for the door. Robert watches her leave before he glances at Chas. He’s not the only one perturbed by Chrissie’s ostensibly friendly chat with Aaron; Chas has one hand on her hip, eyebrows raised as she gives Aaron a pointed look, and he rolls his eyes at his mum in response, turning his back to slink away to the small table by the fire.

Robert grabs his beer and follows. He half expects Aaron to sneer or tell him to get lost when he notices his approach, but his expression doesn’t change and he tips his chin up slightly in silent greeting.

“Alright?” Robert offers.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “You?”

“Same old, really.” 

Aaron nods, picking up his glass to take a long pull from his beer. Foam clings to the top of his lip and he wipes it away with his sleeve. It’s something Robert’s always found both disgusting and weirdly endearing and he bites back a smile, hesitating next to the table.

Shaking his head, Aaron shoves the other chair out with his foot. Robert takes the invitation, sinking into it. The awkwardness between them is thick enough he could slice it with a knife, but he’s relieved Aaron’s being friendly rather than telling him where to go.

“Did you have a good time in Skegness?”

“It was alright, I suppose.” 

“A raving review,” Robert remarks, teasing, and Aaron’s shoulders relax as he grins slightly.

“Nah, it was okay,” he says. “Sandra was fine with putting me up for a bit and it was good to see Liv.”

Robert clears his throat. “I’m…sorry. That you felt you had to leave because of me.” 

It’s a risk, steering too close to topics of conversation he knows Aaron would rather never talk about, but, thankfully, Aaron doesn’t shut down. He shakes his head slightly, smile fading as he looks down at his glass.

“I didn’t leave ‘cause of you,” he says. At Robert’s dubious expression, he amends, “Well, okay, it wasn’t _just_ because of you. I needed to clear my head.”

“Because of our row.”

“Partly,” Aaron acknowledges. “But my head wasn’t exactly in the best of places anyway. Besides, I wanted to see Liv. Sandra’s taking her away for Christmas, somewhere warm and sunny, apparently, so I wanted a chance to spend some time with her before they go.”

“Oh. I bet she loved that.”

“Like you could tell,” he snarks, but his expression has softened, a hint of a smile on his mouth. His love for his sister is obvious. “We ate fish and chips on the beach. I had to apologise to some kiosk bloke after she tried to swindle a vodka slushie out of him. We tried the crappy rides and got ripped off by the arcades, but I managed to win her this giant pink bear…thing.”

“That’s…nice,” Robert offers.

“It’s Liv. Pink cuddly toys aren’t really her thing. She’s probably already sold it by now.” 

“I doubt it,” he replies. “She worships the ground you walk on.”

Aaron looks up, a little surprised by the compliment. He looks hesitant for a moment and Robert knows what he’s thinking, knows that Aaron is running through every single bad thing about himself and wondering _why_ Liv would look up to him, comparing it to his own misguided hero worship of Cain. But then he smiles, small and pleased, and Robert can’t help but smile back. 

“So,” he says. “What was that all about? With Chrissie?”

Aaron shrugs slightly. “She’s got a job for me, that’s all.”

“A job?” he repeats dubiously.

“Yeah. Her car’s been playing up, she wants me to take a look at it.”

“Why you? Why not take it to the garage?”

“I reckon she’d probably rather avoid Cain,” Aaron points out. “Besides, I don’t mind.”

“Maybe you should,” Robert says. “I mean, it’s Chrissie.”

He sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Get off her case, Robert. She was actually being nice.”

“Nice?” he repeats. “You do realise she’s the she-devil, right?”

“Don’t be a prat. She was trying to convince me to give you a chance, you know.”

He’s surprised into silence for a moment, letting that sink in. “You what?” he finally manages. “No way. It’s got to be some twisted game she’s concocted.”

Aaron shakes his head, exasperated. “Not everyone has some dodgy ulterior motive, Robert, and not everyone is out to manipulate and hurt people. Not everyone is like you.”

Robert really shouldn’t be surprised by how much that stings. He clenches his jaw. “Cheers for that.”

Aaron looks away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, she was being civil, okay? And I appreciate it. I could do without the hassle of her being at my throat. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. So, if you want to continue your stupid feud with her and her family, go ahead. But leave me out of it, yeah?”

Robert looks at him. A couple of days ago, when he’d returned to the village, he’d looked healthy and happy, but now, that cagey weariness is back in his eyes, exhaustion clear on his face. For a moment, he wonders if Aaron’s been pushing himself again, running himself ragged, but he knows that if he had, Chas would have been straight up in his face, laying the blame on him. Something else is going on. 

“What?” Aaron snaps.

“You said you’ve got enough on your plate,” he says. “What’s going on?”

For a second, he thinks Aaron might actually tell him. He holds Robert’s gaze, brows furrowed together, but he sees the moment the shutters come down again and Aaron withdraws back into himself.

“Just work stuff,” he mutters, getting to his feet. “Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

Robert watches him duck behind the bar, sidling past Chas when she tries to get his attention. Once he’s gone, he sits back in his seat and pushes a hand through his hair, trying to smother the snarl of frustration in his chest.

***

He goes to Home Farm the next morning.

It’s Lawrence who answers his insistent knock on the door and, instantly, his worn face twists into a scowl.

“If you know what’s good for you,” he warns. “You’ll turn around and leave.”

It’s almost comedic, how efficient Robert is at turning parental figures against him, and if it wasn’t for the bitterness still lingering in his bones, he might even laugh. Instead, he bites back the venom on his tongue and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Look,” he says. “I just want a word with Chrissie.”

“Who on earth do you think you -.”

“Dad,” Chrissie interrupts, appearing in the doorway behind Lawrence. “It’s fine.” 

“I’ve got this, Chrissie,” he dismisses, not even turning to look at her. “Now, look here -.”

“Dad,” she says again, tone hardening. “I can handle it.”

Lawrence’s gaze narrows on Robert but he finally steps back, expression colder and harder than granite. When Chrissie places a hand on his arm, he slowly turns and walks away. Chrissie steps out of the house, pulling the door shut behind her, and leans against it, arms folded over her chest.

She’s wearing a thick cable knit turtleneck that’s the same shade of brown as her eyes and she’s had a haircut, chopping it to just above her collarbones. She looks good; some of the hardness she’s worn on her face over the last few months has softened, her anger and bitterness smoothed out into something kinder. She looks healthier. 

Robert loved her once. Perhaps not in the right way and certainly not in the way she wanted, or the way he convinced himself, and everyone else, he did. But part of him had cared for her beyond her family connections, beyond her wealth and status and what she could provide for him. Part of him had loved her enough to fight tooth and nail for her, even when it would have been safer and easier to cut his losses entirely.

He knows now that he’d deluded himself as effectively as he’d lied to her. He knows now that the kind of love he held for her was all wrong, toxic and cruel and selfish. Now that he knows what it means to really love, he realises just how much he hurt her, himself, and everyone around them by insisting it was real. 

He remembers how terrified he was when she locked him in the barn and threw gasoline over him. He remembers the look on her face as she set the car on fire. He remembers the vindictiveness in her voice when she was gunning for Aaron, until Robert managed to focus her antagonism back on himself. 

Sometimes, he wonders if that potential to spiral and unravel into someone capable of those things was always innate in her, or if it was something his own despicable actions instilled in her, something he drove her to. He wonders what she would be like if she’d never met him, if he’d just let her be.

Looking at her now, seeing that spark back in her eyes and the hint of kindness in the pout of her mouth, he feels the urge to provoke her, that need to push her buttons, thaw slightly. 

“What do you want, Robert?” she asks. For once, there’s no sharpness in her tone; she just sounds tired.

“I saw you talking to Aaron yesterday.”

“And?” she replies. “I asked him to take a look at my car. The brakes have been acting up.”

Robert searches her gaze. “What’s your game, Chrissie?”

She shakes her head, pulling her sleeves down over her fingers to protect them from the cold. It makes her look younger. “There is no game.”

“There’s always a game with you, Chrissie.”

“Not this time,” she says. “Look, I’ve got enough on my plate without being at odds with Aaron and his family. Believe it or not, I can forgive him for his part in the affair. I don’t want to spend my time avoiding him or having things be awkward every time I’m in the pub. I just want to get on with my life, Robert.”

He stares at her, trying to read her expression. He’s always been able to tell when she’s lying or hiding something, but, then, she’s always been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve and her emotions on her face. Jealousy, excitement, love, anger, all of it, he knows exactly how it looks on Chrissie. 

“And talking to him about me?” he demands. “Aaron said you were trying to convince him to give me a second chance.” 

“As much as I hate you and want you to pay for what you did,” she replies, and there’s the raw bitterness he’d expected, her tone coated in old, festering hurt. “I can’t be doing with the constant fighting. Scoring cheap points with each other and shouting at each other in the street, it’s pathetic. So I’m done with it. When you’re with Aaron, you’re actually almost a tolerable human being. So, as uncomfortable as it is seeing you with the man you cheated on me with, I’d rather that than you go around lashing out at me because you’re miserable.”

“Really?” he presses. “There’s no ulterior motive?”

Chrissie tips her head back, eyelashes fanning her cheeks as she closes her eyes. She looks exhausted. Whatever hatred and disgust she still holds for Robert, it’s obvious it’s being drowned out by whatever else is going on; the business, or her dad’s health, or Lachlan, he has no idea and he doesn’t want to ask, but he doesn’t want to trust her, either.

“For once, no,” she says. “Believe me, don’t believe me, I don’t care. Just leave me alone, Robert.”

Robert frowns. He thinks about her quietness around Aaron over the last few months, the way she’d easily twisted her anger back onto Robert rather than trying to antagonize Aaron. He thinks about her asking about Aaron when he returned to the village.

So he digs deeper. “You know what the trial was about. With his dad.”

Chrissie’s mouth tightens. She looks away. “Yes.”

Cold, wild anger fractures open in Robert’s chest. “If you’re planning to use that against him as some sort of revenge -.”

“I’m not,” she snaps. “Good god, Robert, what sort of person do you take me for? That would be sick.”

“Then is that why you’ve forgiven him? Because of his dad?”

The fury in her gaze withers and she wraps her arms around her middle, and Robert knows he’s hit the nail on the head.

“Yes, well,” she says quietly. “It’s hard to stay mad at someone when you find out they’ve been through something like that.”

Robert shakes his head. “Aaron wouldn’t want your pity.”

“Which is why I didn’t offer it to him,” she agrees. “And why I won’t. So, please, just leave me alone, Robert. I’m tired of this.”

He believes her. As much as he doesn’t want to, he does. The truth of her words is written into the very core of her being, as much as she’d obviously rather avoid talking to him about it. Relief cracks open the ice in Robert’s chest. Whatever she might think of him, knowing that she, and hopefully her family, will at least leave Aaron alone is a comfort.

“And us?” he asks.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours,” she replies. “Let’s all try to be civil. Deal?”

It’s surprising how much Robert wants this; how much he wants the feud to be over and done with. But he does. He wants them both to move on with their lives. So he nods.

“Deal.” 

***

He isn’t surprised when Aaron finds him at the pub that evening.

He catches Robert’s gaze and gestures with his head. Silently, Robert obliges, following Aaron out the back and up the stairs. He can’t quite get a read on Aaron’s expression, so he stays quiet as he drops down onto the couch, watching the younger man move to the fridge. 

Aaron grabs two bottles of beer, uncapping them before he hands one to Robert. He settles in one of the chairs at the table, taking a swig from his bottle. 

“I saw Chrissie this afternoon,” he says. “I sorted her car. She said you and her had a chat.”

“We did.” Robert rolls his bottle between his palms. “She asked to be civil. I agreed.”

“That’s…unexpected,” Aaron replies. 

He shrugs. “I’m trying to change, you know. I’m trying to be better. For you.”

Aaron tilts his head back, taking a deep breath. He lets it go slowly, lips pressed together as he mulls those words over. When he meets Robert’s gaze again, he shakes his head slightly, opening his mouth to say something. Before he can, however, the door opens, and Robert isn’t surprised to see Chas storm into the room, expression displeased.

“Here we go,” Aaron mutters. 

Chas ignores him, raising her eyebrows at Robert. “So, this is your idea of space, yeah?” 

“I asked him to come up here. We need to talk.” Aaron leans back in his seat. “Just leave it, mum.”

“I’m trying to look out for you, here.”

“Just,” Aaron stops, pushes out a sharp breath. “Just stop worrying about me.”

She places her hands on her hips. “I’m your mum. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“Yeah. But it’s not your job to make decisions for me, and it’s not your job to attack someone just because you think you’re protecting me.” The words are steady but firm, Aaron’s expression set in hard lines.

Watching Chas and Aaron row is like witnessing an unstoppable force meet an unmoveable object. It’s usually a toss-up on who, if either of them, will cave first. But right now, Aaron is at his peak: all of that frenetic, inflexible, unshakeable rawness is bottled up like a hurricane; not even a thousand-strong army could make him budge an inch. 

“I _am_ protecting you!” Chas insists.

Robert shifts slightly. He’s not exactly keen on being privy to another argument between Chas and Aaron, especially when he’s the focus of it. But when he starts to get up, considering just walking out and leaving them to it, Aaron stops him with a single look and a sharp gesture with his hand.

“No,” he says. “You’re not. You’re trying to decide what’s best for me. You did the same with Jackson, after the accident.”

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out!”

The tension in the room turns to ice, splintering around them. Robert’s gaze snaps to Aaron’s face and he watches the shutters come slamming down and wild fire light up his eyes. He knows this trigger, has pushed it too many times and earned being shoved into the wall and shoved out of Aaron’s life for it, and even though he’s not the one stabbing at this particular wound this time, his stomach still feels hollow seeing the pained anger blazing in Aaron’s eyes, stark in the hard set of his jaw.

“Oh, love,” Chas says, tone softening with regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. But I was right to be worried. You did end up hurt.”

Aaron snaps up to his feet, resting his palms flat on the table as he exhales sharply. “Yes, but that was _my_ decision. All of it was my decision. Same with Ed. Same with Robert. It’s _my_ life, mum. I’ll make mistakes and I’ll get hurt and things will go wrong, but that’s on me. Only _I_ get to decide what I do with my life. I get that you’re worried, but Robert…” He sighs. “Robert doesn’t deserve it, okay?”

Chas snorts. “Are you for real?”

“He made mistakes,” Aaron says. His tone is deliberately calm now, that boiling anger reigned in again. “But tell me, mum, how many mistakes have _I_ made? I’ve screwed up again and again and you’ve always had my back, and I love you for that, I do, but you can’t keep blaming my shitty decisions on other people.” He shakes his head. “Robert was there for me, remember? Through the trial, through everything.”

“Oh, I remember,” Chas agrees. The gleam in her eyes is chilling, eerily identical to Cain and to Aaron when they’re riled up. “I remember the whole mess with that kid Ryan.”  
Robert closes his eyes, biting his tongue as he drops his head. Rubbing his hands over his face, he wonders if it isn’t worth just bailing anyway. Chas isn’t going to let this go, no matter what Aaron says.

“A mistake,” Aaron says. “One that came from a good place. And when it all came out, he was worried about what it would mean for the trial, worried about how it would affect me, not himself and the possibility of him going to jail. Doesn’t that tell you something? Besides, _you_ asked him for help, mum. You can’t throw all of the blame on him.”

Chas leans back slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I know that, love,” she finally replies, stilted. “But I’ve spent too long watching you hurt yourself. I haven’t got it in me to watch more. It’s breaking my heart, Aaron.”

His expression softens by the slightest degree, the sharp set of his shoulders loosening into a tired slump. “Robert isn’t a way for me to hurt myself. Just the opposite, actually. He’s my friend. I mean, look,” he gestures towards Robert, but his gaze remains on Chas as he continues, “He’s still here, despite the flack you keep giving him. Doesn’t that count for something? You don’t have to like him. But you have to respect the fact that _I_ do. So, please. Just leave him alone, mum.”

For a long, stifling minute, Chas stares at her son. Her gaze flickers between him and Robert, letting Aaron’s words, the truth behind them and the harshness that proves how vehemently he means it, sink in. Finally, she backs down, lifting her hands slightly in exasperated surrender.

“Fine,” she says. “Fine. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

She doesn’t spare Robert another glance as she turns and leaves, closing the door quietly behind her. Aaron watches her go, then drops back into his seat, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters.

Robert looks at him. It takes him a second to realise that he’s not breathing and he exhales shakily, reeling from the fact that Aaron just defended him to his own mother, world spinning from the raw, genuine note in Aaron’s voice as he spoke up on Robert’s behalf. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

Aaron takes a long gulp from his beer. “Do what?”

“Row with your mum over me.”

“Yeah, well, that was a row we needed to have. That we’ve needed to have for a long time, actually.” Aaron shrugs slightly. “Besides, _have_ has nothing to do with it. I wanted to do it.”

“Why?” Normally, he’d hate the crack in his voice, the vulnerability it exposes, but somehow, around Aaron, it doesn’t bother him.

“Because…because I’ve always been a fuck up,” Aaron says. “Especially when my mum first dragged me back to the village. I was a nightmare. But she always had my back, no matter what. And now I have Cain and Paddy and Adam, too, even Debbie and Chastity if it came down to it. I know they’ll fight in my corner. But, apart from Vic, who is in _your_ corner?”

Aaron doesn’t mean it as an insult, but it stings anyway, because it hits home. “Well, you, apparently,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “Because you’re not a bad guy, Robert. I mean, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not even that much of a fuck up in comparison to what I was like back then. You deserve better than being treated like scum. So, I’m fighting in your corner. I always will, okay? Because you’ve been fighting in mine for a while now.”

Robert swallows. “Thank you.”

Aaron gets to his feet, collecting his bottle from the table as he approaches. He moves to sit on the coffee table in front of Robert, ducking his head to meet his gaze. 

“Look, Robert,” he says quietly. “If you want to change certain things, then you do that for yourself. Not for me. Okay? But…”

Robert glances up. “But?”

“For what it’s worth? I don’t want you to change.”

He can’t help the dubious sound that rattles in his throat. “Really?”

Aaron’s mouth twitches into a slight smile. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, life would be easier for just about everyone if you weren’t constantly at odds with at least one person in the village, and it’d be better if you stopped lashing out. But those things…they aren’t _you_.”

“I think plenty of people would disagree,” Robert mutters. 

“I don’t care. They don’t see you. But _I_ do, Robert. I see who you are. I always have done. You’re a good person who has done a lot of shitty things out of anger and rejection or – or hurt. I saw you when you tried with your brother before he married Katie. I saw you, when it was just us and you looked at me like nothing else mattered. Even when you held a gun to my head, even when I was so sure in that moment that I hated you, I didn’t see a bad guy. I saw an angry, scared kid who had let things get out of control and didn’t know what to do.”

Robert swallows, looking away. Aaron means it; his voice is rough and shot through with heat, riled up like he is whenever he truly believes in something or someone enough to speak up for them. It feels too generous, too kind, considering the things he’s done, but he craves Aaron’s forgiveness all the same. 

“You’ve always seen me,” he agrees quietly. “It used to terrify me, you know.”

“I know. Terrified me too, actually.” Aaron sighs. “Listen, I could be better, too. There’s stuff I need to work on. Stuff I _am_ working on. But I don’t want you to completely change. I don’t want you to be a different person and I don’t want you changing everything you are, especially if you’re doing it for me. I just like _you_, Robert. Flaws and all.”

Robert stares at him, letting his words sink right down into him, branding themselves in his heart. Reaching out, he places his hand on Aaron’s knee, trying to find the words to tell him exactly what the words he just said means to him. 

Aaron curls his fingers around Robert’s wrist, holding on. He drops his gaze, taking a deep breath. “Do me a favour?”

“Anything.” 

“Shut up for a few minutes so I can tell you something.”

Robert raises his eyebrows. He wants to smile at Aaron’s words and tone – he’s always found that roughness, that complete lack of giving a fuck, somehow endearing – but the look on Aaron’s face stops him. 

“What?” he prompts carefully.

“About Jackson. And Ed and just – all of that mess.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Aaron says firmly. He lets go of Robert’s wrist and takes a hard gulp from his beer. “When mum first dragged me back here, I was a wreck. I pissed off pretty much everyone, including Lisa and Zak, even though they put me up and looked out for me. I’m sure Victoria’s told you about the other stuff, too.”

Robert clears his throat, nodding slightly. Discovering that Aaron had once had sex with his sister hadn’t exactly been a comfortable conversation, especially given the shitty circumstances surrounding it; Aaron’s determination to antagonise Andy and Daz, his nastiness and cruelty when lashing out, his unerring ability to hurt people. But, considering his own actions, Robert’s not exactly in a position to judge, especially now he knows exactly what Aaron was dealing with back then, all by himself. Growing up burdened with what Gordon did to him, certain his mum didn’t care about him, feeling alone and unwanted…it’s no surprise that Aaron acted the way he did. 

“I was a mess,” Aaron says, gesturing to his temple. “Up here. I felt so angry and so alone. I felt like no one wanted me because I was a fuck up, so I decided to prove them all right, because I was so sure it would feel better if it was on my own terms. The first time I looked at a bloke and felt something, I _hated_ myself. I felt disgusting. I felt _wrong_. I thought – I thought I was like my dad. That I was sick in the head like him.”

“Aaron…”

“Shut up,” he snaps. “Just – just let me talk, yeah?”

Robert bites back the words he wants to say, fights down the urge to reach out and touch Aaron. He nods once, encouraging him to continue.

“Then Adam and me, we got close. I convinced myself that I just saw him as a mate, that the thoughts I had sometimes…they didn’t mean anything. And then we nearly got in an accident. I hit my head, I think I was bleeding, I don’t really remember, but Adam was worried. He touched my face to try and check out my injuries. And I slipped up. I tried to kiss him.”

“I’d accuse you of bad taste,” Robert remarks. “But I think that’d be insulting myself as well, since you fancied me once, too.”

Aaron exhales sharply, giving him a pointed look, so he quickly lifts his hands up in surrender, pressing his lips together. Shaking his head, Aaron looks away.

“I tried to make him believe that he’d misread it. I don’t think I really convinced him, though. Didn’t really convince myself, either, but I tried so fucking hard to anyway. I started dating his sister. But nothing worked. After Holly broke it off, after everything…I ended up at Bar West. That’s where I met Jackson.” 

He pauses, draining the rest of his beer. “Jackson was…” he shakes his head slightly. “He was just _good_, you know? Not many people are, not really, but he was. He listened to me. He was patient. He had this smile that could just…I’ve never seen a smile like it. And of all the people he could have gone after, he wanted _me_. Even though I was a complete closet case. Even though I wasn’t exactly friendly with him. He didn’t give up. And I repaid him by hitting him. I tried to top myself after that.”

Robert closes his eyes, lowering his head. He’s known for a long time about Aaron’s suicide attempt, but he’s never asked about the details. He wants to know, but he’s also a little scared to hear about it, to really think about Aaron in that position. 

“In the garage,” Aaron continues. “I nearly managed it, too. Adam found me, he and Cain dragged me out. And I hated it. I wished so badly that I hadn’t woken up again. But Jackson…once he found out what I’d done, he tried to talk to me, tried to help me. What kind of person tries to help the person that battered them? He came to the trial, too. Seeing him is what gave me the strength to finally admit it. To tell everyone I’m gay. He gave me another chance, too, despite everything. Fuck, he gave me _so many_ chances, even when I screwed up again and again. And then I fucked up worse than ever. The accident was my fault.”

“Aaron -.”

“No,” he says harshly. “I’ve come to terms with it, but it’s true. He was left paralysed because of me and he tried so hard for us, for his mum and me. Even when he was pushing us away, it was because he wanted us to be happy. But he couldn’t be. He felt trapped and he wanted out. He begged us to help him. Hazel, his mum, she – she couldn’t do it. So I took the cup and I held it to his mouth. I made him drink it and then I ran. I wasn’t there when he…” He stops, gasps a sharp, stuttering breath. “I wasn’t there. He was twenty one years old. _Twenty fucking one_. Someone that good, that…that patient and forgiving and look what I did to him.”

“Is that when you…” Robert hesitates, glancing at Aaron’s stomach. 

“No. I started after the trial,” Aaron replies. His eyes are red, tears wet on his cheeks, but he keeps going, fingers tight around his empty bottle. “I was found not guilty and all I could think about was what I had done to him. I couldn’t hack it. Hurting myself was the only way to just make it all stop. The pain helped.”

He looks away. “Mum found out, eventually. I started seeing a councillor, tried to sort myself out. Not sure how much I succeeded, really. But then I met Ed. And he was…” he pauses, huffs a slight laugh. “He was charming and he was bloody persistent. We weren’t together long. It was supposed to just be some fun, but things got more serious, and he asked me to go to France with him. I said no. But then Adam set fire to the garage and nearly killed Cain, so I took the fall. I told the police it was me and I fled to France. I didn’t even tell Ed at first. When he found out, it nearly broke us, but he stuck by me. He forgave me. But I wasn’t past everything that had happened with Jackson, not really, and Ed and me…we didn’t fit, not really. Things fell apart.”

“That’s not your fault,” Robert says quietly.

“Isn’t it?” Aaron rubs a hand over his face, sniffing slightly. “Then I came back. Adam told the cops the truth, but I was put in remand since I’d skipped bail. When I got out, Victoria introduced me to Finn. He was nice, he was keen, so I thought ‘why not?’”

“Yeah, I…I can’t really see the two of you together, I have to admit.” 

“It was awkward. We were both hammered and like you said, the two of us together, we didn’t really work out. Still managed to hurt him after, though, when I turned him down. I should have known better, but I did it anyway.” Aaron looks up, meeting Robert’s gaze. “And then there was you, and we both know how that turned out. So, there you go. That’s what I do, Robert. I destroy everything I touch.”

“That’s not true.”

“But it _is_, though. I killed Jackson. I hurt Ed and Finn, I ruined your life –.”

“I ruined my own life,” Robert argues. 

“I hurt people and I hurt myself, and I can’t do it anymore. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Robert. I’m not cut out for – for -.”

“For what?” he interrupts. “For love? For happiness?” 

Aaron’s shoulders slump as he sighs. “Look, I’ve had a really fucking terrible history with relationships, alright? That’s what I’m trying to say here. I can’t do it again, not now. I can’t risk all of that hurt again. I’m not…” He gestures to his head again, shuddering slightly. “After Gordon, after all of that, I’m not in the right place. I don’t have room for anything else up here. I need to sort myself out.”

Scooting forwards on the couch, Robert reaches out, resting his hands on Aaron’s knees. When he meets his gaze, he offers a tentative smile. “Aaron, I’m not gonna push you. After everything you’ve been through over the last few months, making it worse is the last thing I want to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lifting one hand to Aaron’s shoulder, he squeezes slightly. “But we should talk. About…everything. We’ve never really cleared the air about the things we’ve done. That _I’ve_ done. Not properly. I don’t think we’ll ever have closure until we do that.”

Aaron still looks raw and aching from cracking himself open like that, spilling out his past and his vulnerabilities. But he nods, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“Okay,” he agrees. “You first.”

It isn’t easy, admitting to everything he’s done. Laying it all out there, as honestly and as bluntly as possible, including the things Aaron didn’t know about, it makes him feel empty, hollowed out by his own guilt and regret. Aaron stays silent as he listens, jaw tight and cheeks red, but he doesn’t interrupt and he doesn’t shout, doesn’t lash out. His gaze, lit-up and wild, stays focused on Robert’s face, searing into him as he guts himself for Aaron. 

He tells him the grit and the twisted and the cruel, but he tells him about the other stuff, too. Tells him that life would have been easier if he never went after Aaron, but, from the moment he met him, from the second Aaron told him he was gay, he _couldn’t_ leave him alone. He admits that he was driven by something deeper than his recklessness and arrogance, that he was driven by sheer, unrivalled _want_. He tells him that from the moment he kissed him, everything was different. Everything changed. Their first time, quick and dirty and desperate in the back of a car in the garage, was nothing like Robert had ever experienced before, nothing like he’d ever experienced again, apart from with Aaron. He ruined everything, and he made everything so much better.

When Aaron asks if Robert meant it when, after Katie, he cupped his face and told him he needed him, or if it was all just to manipulate him, Robert says, quietly, “It can’t be both?”

When Aaron asks if Robert meant it when he first told him he loved him, or if that was just to keep him on side too, he says, quietly, “I meant it, more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. And it terrified me.”

When Aaron asks if Robert meant the words he said in the scrapyard that day, if he truly was only with him out of pity, he says, quietly, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, said a lot of things I don’t mean, but what I did that day, what I said…I regret that most. I acted out because I was angry and I felt rejected. I fucked up and I fucked _you_ up by saying it. But none of it was true.”

When Aaron asks if Robert really felt anything real for him back then, back at the start, during the affair, he says, quietly, “I fell for you from the start, Aaron. I just didn’t let myself see it back then. So I pushed you away and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

When Aaron asks if he really is sorry for everything he’s done, not just to him, but to Paddy, to Chas and to Chrissie and to Andy, he says, quietly, “There are some things I’ve done that I should regret, but don’t, and there are some things that I regret more than others. And there are things that will haunt me forever.”

And, finally, when it’s done and every last, rotten bit of truth is stretched out like chalk outlines between them, when Aaron has been silent for a good ten minutes, letting it all sink in, tears on his face and fingers knotted together between his knees, Robert takes a deep breath and says, raw and honest:

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for using Jackson against you. I’m sorry for everything.”

Slowly, Aaron nods. He looks up. “Okay,” he says, voice rough, thick with unshed tears.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He wipes a hand under his eyes. “I told you, Robert. I see you, and I don’t see a bad person. I know guilt and self-loathing and I don’t want you feeling like that, alright? You’ve made shitty mistakes and even shittier decisions because you’re an impulsive idiot who lashes out when someone hurts or rejects them.” He pauses, smiling slightly. “Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got a bit of a record of that myself.”

Robert laughs, hoarse and damp with tears. “Just a bit, yeah.”

“But here’s the thing,” Aaron continues. “You just told me everything. All of it. And you’ve been there for me over the last few months, through the trial, through everything. That day in the park, when I tried to kiss you…you could’ve just kissed me back. You had the chance to get back into my bed, but you didn’t take it, because you wanted to do right by me. You were looking out for me, the same way you looked out for my mum when I was too much of a mess to do it, the same way you looked out for Liv when she was upset after the trial. I don’t want you to change, but you have made _changes_. I see that. And I forgive you.”

He can’t help the sound that shatters out of him, quiet and breathless and relieved. “Thank you.”

“Besides, I’ve done plenty of shitty things, too.”

Robert shakes his head. “Aaron -.”

“Oi,” he interrupts. “It’s my turn now, so can it. Because I _have_. Before you, with Victoria, with Jackson and Ed, with my family and with Adam. And with you. I knew you were engaged, but I jumped into bed with you anyway. That day on the farm, on your wedding day, I made a decision. You didn’t force me into it. At the hotel, I saw Katie and Chrissie, but I didn’t say anything. A huge part of me wanted to get caught, despite what it would do to you, what it would do to Chrissie to find out that way. I _did_ get us caught with Katie and look what happened as a result. I hit you. I hurt you. And I outed you. After everything I went through coming out, I was still selfish and vindictive enough to out you. I did it in the worst possible way and I hurt Chrissie in the process. I told you I wished you were dead. I took way too much enjoyment in antagonising you for way too long.” He shrugs, catching and holding Robert’s gaze. “You’re not the only one with regrets. I fucked up, too. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I forgive you.” He doesn’t need to even think about it, not really. He’d already forgiven Aaron long ago, well before Gordon, well before he rushed Aaron to hospital.

Hell, even when he’d thought Aaron had shot him, he’s sure he’d have forgiven him for that, too. Maybe that’s messed up, but he doesn’t care. Because as much as Aaron sees him, _he_ sees _Aaron_, sees his heart and his soul. He’d meant what he said in court that day, that Aaron is the kind of person you want to be, and to be with. Forgiving Aaron was never not an option for him.

Aaron quickly swipes away fresh tears and clears his throat. “Okay,” he says, nodding sharply. “Okay.” He starts to get to his feet.

“Wait,” Robert says quickly, catching Aaron’s wrist. “There’s something else I want to know.”

He looks down. “What?”

“Tell me about prison.”

The shutters start to come down. Aaron looks away, jaw tightening. “Why?” he asks quietly.

“You told me you went through hell and back in there,” he replies. “I want to know. Please.”

Sighing, he sits back down, scrubbing a hand roughly over his hair. “It was prison. It’s not exactly a laugh, is it?”

“But it was really bad for you,” he presses. “Why?”

“You said it yourself, Robert. That day in the scrapyard.” Aaron points out. “Gay, self-harming, emotionally stunted? Prison was perfect for me.”

Robert closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven, remember?” he mutters. “But it was true. Prison was hell. It was bad enough when I was in remand after I came back from France, but at least I weren’t in there for long that time. It was shit, but Shane was around and he had my back. I could handle it. When I got banged up after you got shot, there was no one in there who was on my side.”

He swallows, rubbing at his wrist with his thumb. “I tried to hide it when I first went in. Being gay, I mean. After all I went through coming out, I went and put myself back in the closet.” He smiles grimly. “Almost funny, innit?”

“Not really, no,” Robert replies quietly.

“But that didn’t last long. A few of the inmates recognised my name from the papers, back when Jackson died. So not only did they know I’m gay, but they knew I’d killed my ex, and that I was locked up for trying to shoot another bloke. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. Between that and seeing my scars in the shower…I didn’t stand a chance. It was hell, Robert, pure hell, okay? I still dream about it. I still feel sick just thinking about it and I never want to go back there. _Never_. I just want to move on.”

Robert watches him, a horrible ache in his chest. “And the other thing?” he finally has the balls to ask. “That I said, I mean? About topping yourself?”

For a long moment, Aaron is silent. Finally, he murmurs, “I thought a lot about Jackson while I was in there. Wondering if it was karma, if it was justice for what happened to him. I thought about how he was imprisoned in his own body. And how he found a way out of it.”

His words splinter between Robert’s ribs, fracturing them apart. It should be impossible for words to hurt so much, but they do. 

“Did you…?”

Aaron swallows. “What I’m about to tell you, no one knows. Cain…Cain knew that it got pretty bad. I told him what I was thinking about. But he doesn’t know that I tried. And no one _will_ know. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I managed to get my hands on a blade,” he admits. “I was alone in my cell, just looking at this tiny, filthy piece of metal, and I knew just…just a slice on each wrist, deep enough to be sure, and it would be over. I almost did it.”

The awful thing is, Robert can picture it so easily. He can see Aaron, alone and cold and tired, turning a blade over and over in his hands, contemplating his own death. He’s seen Aaron cut himself to shreds, seeking out any way to escape the things he bottles up, turning on himself rather than burdening anyone else. He’s witnessed Aaron lash out at others in anger or hurt, but never as brutally as he does on himself. 

Aaron Dingle never backs down from a fight, unless he’s fighting himself. He takes the pain and the scars and the misery because he thinks he deserves it. Knowing that Aaron was _that_ fucking close to doing it, realising that he’d been that close to losing him and he wouldn’t have known it until it was too late, wouldn’t have been able to stop him, it’s terrifying. 

He’s been called a control freak by plenty of people, Aaron included, but he’s never felt so wildly out of control than when he’s around Aaron. The idea of not being able to help next time, of having absolutely no damn control over it, it sends him spinning, has his heart clenching, cold and painful, in his chest.

“What stopped you?” he asks quietly.

“Shane. He’d just been brought in. He heard I was knocking about so he sought me out. That’s how he found me. He talked me out of it.” Aaron clears his throat. “The next day, some of the lads started in on me again, and Shane, he had my back. He put a stop to it. I’m pretty sure they would have kicked my head in once and for all if he wasn’t there. I had the bruises and the fractured ribs from their last attempt. Fuck, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have cared if they _did_, but Shane, nah, he was having none of it. I was let out just a few days after that.” 

Bruises. Fractured ribs. Robert should have known, should have sensed it when he saw Aaron for the first time after he was released, should have seen it in the raw emptiness bleeding out of him. 

“Sounds like Shane’s a good mate,” Robert murmurs.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees hoarsely. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it?”

There’s more there, something rough scraping underneath Aaron’s tone, and Robert wants to press, but he knows better. Aaron’s done. As exhausted and aching as Robert feels from the conversation, he knows Aaron’s feeling it even more.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have got you out sooner.”

Aaron shakes his head. “We’ve just been through this, so quit apologising or I’m gonna boot you out that door.”

“So, me and you, we’re good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But I meant what I said, about not having any room for…for anything.”

“I know,” Robert promises. “And I meant what I said about not pushing.”

The tension eases out of Aaron’s shoulders. “So…mates?”

“Yeah, mates. I’m going to be the best friend you’ve ever had.” He means every word of it, too, more than he’s meant most things he’s said in his life.

“Watch it,” Aaron says, a small smile on his face. “Don’t let Adam hear you calling yourself my best mate.”

“Too late, I’ve got the friendship bracelets made up and everything. He’ll just have to handle it.” 

It’s a shit joke, but Aaron laughs all the same, breathless and wild like a release. He leans forward and Robert meets him halfway, enveloping him in a tight hug. Aaron claps him gently on the back, lingers for three heartbeats, and then draws back, meeting his gaze with a smile that’s genuine enough to spill sunshine behind Robert’s ribs. The look on his face is enough for Robert to make the vow again, silently, to himself this time, because he truly means it.

He’s going to make sure he’s the best friend Aaron could ever have.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: alcohol, drunkness (harmless tipsiness of a secondary character), mention of death (Sarah and Jackson), mention of Aaron's childhood, Gordon and implied mention of child sexual abuse, mention of Robert's childhood and his issues with his father and Andy, mild angst, mention of criminal activity and Adam's beating in prison.

Christmas almost takes him by surprise. It doesn’t really hit home that it’s Christmas Eve until Victoria clatters down the stairs in the late afternoon, dressed up in a gaudy sweater and glittery reindeer ears. At his horrified expression, she grins and drops onto the sofa next to him.

“I’m working tonight,” she says. “Christmas Eve, should be busy.”

He nods. “Right.” 

“So…”

“So?” he prompts, flicking through channels on the TV. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” 

Robert pauses, thumb going still on the remote, struck by the realisation that he actually doesn’t have a clue. He hasn’t thought about it, not really. Christmas isn’t something he usually makes a big deal of, anyway; when he was with Chrissie, he’d participate in the White family’s big, extravagant holiday traditions, but by himself, he usually lets the day slip by without much fuss. Normally, it’s just a reminder of his childhood, of his dad and Christmases on the farm, and sometimes, most times, he’d rather not dwell on those kind of memories for long.

“I dunno,” he admits. “What are you doing?”

“Well, me and Adam are going over to Butler’s Farm tomorrow to spend the morning with his family. Then I’m having lunch with Andy, Diane and Doug. You could come with?”

Robert raises an eyebrow. “Did Andy say I could?”

“He didn’t say you _couldn’t_,” Vic hazards. “Besides, it’s Christmas. A time of goodwill and all that. You two have been alright lately, haven’t you?”

“We’ve been civil,” he allows. 

“So, why not?” She presses. “We haven’t had a family Christmas dinner in forever.”

“Maybe not this year, Vic,” he says gently. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

She sighs, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Well, he’s spending the afternoon with Debbie and the kids after lunch, and I’ll be at the pub helping Marlon with the booked dinners. Then there’s that thing at the village hall.”

“What thing?”

“Oh, come on, you must have heard Laurel and that lot banging on about it,” she says, surprised when he shakes his head. “They’ve sorted a Christmas party with mince pies and mulled wine. It’s a fundraising thing to raise money for Dementia UK. You could go to that?”

“Great, cheap pies and wine in the village hall, sounds great,” he replies dryly. 

“I don’t want you to be alone, that’s all,” she says.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. When she looks at him, dubious, he adds, “Look, I know I didn’t book, but if I give you a tenner, could you sort me some Christmas dinner at the pub tomorrow? Would that make you happy?”

“Waiting on you, yeah, that makes me well happy,” she snarks, but she’s smiling as she pats his shoulder. “I’ll squeeze you in. Four o’clock, yeah?”

“Thanks, Vic.”

She gets to her feet, looking happier as she bundles up for the harsh weather. With a quick wave, she’s gone, and Robert sighs, sinking back into the sofa. He looks at the Christmas tree Vic and Adam put up in the corner of the living room. It’s a spindly, sad looking thing, thin branches weighed down with sparkly baubles, tinsel and multicoloured lights, a topsy-turvy star sagging on the top. 

He’s got Vic a present, naturally, and Diane and Doug; he’ll send the latters’ off with Victoria to give to them at Andy’s tomorrow. He’s even got Adam one, mostly to escape Vic’s disappointed Bambi eyes. He hasn’t got Andy one, but there is one for Aaron, tucked towards the back underneath the tree. 

The thought of being alone for Christmas doesn’t really bother him, despite Vic’s concerns. He’ll have lunch at the pub to appease her and maybe swing by the thing at the village hall in the evening to do his bit. 

***

He’s up at six the next morning. He doesn’t have much choice; Victoria’s up and blasting _Wham!_ before most of the village is even awake. 

He grumbles and pulls a face at her once he slumps down the stairs in search of coffee, but she doesn’t fall for it because she sees the smile on his face. He can’t help it; it reminds him of when they were kids, Vic waking the house up at the crack of dawn, jumping on beds and shouting about Santa eating the mince pie she left out, and it’s one of his better memories of their childhood. 

Adam is only marginally less of an overgrown child about Christmas, bleary eyed but grinning as he tugs on the Santa sweater Vic pushes into his hands. Robert makes coffee and perches on the arm of the sofa as Victoria tackles the presents under the tree.

Her face lights up at the ticket for a cooking experience weekend he’s booked for her and she hugs him tight enough that he winces.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “If you’re serious about setting up your own food van business, you’ll need all the practise you can get.”

Adam looks surprised but pleased by the personalised beer mug Robert found in a gift shop, clapping him on the shoulder with a, “This is mint. Cheers.” 

Once the presents are over and done with, Robert makes fresh coffee for himself while they get dressed and bundle up to head over to Moira’s. He hands over Diane and Doug’s present and turns Vic down when she once again invites him to join her for Christmas lunch with them. Finally, he’s alone, and he drops down onto the sofa with a mug full of steaming coffee, relaxing. 

It’s a dreary Christmas day, sky grey and bleak, the ground coated in ice. He doesn’t bother trying to find something worth watching on TV, since he knows the channels will be full of kids movies and cheesy festive specials; instead, he watches the world outside as he drinks his coffee and wakes up properly.

The village is quiet and empty, its residents shut away in the warmth with gifts, booze and food. Occasionally, there’s movement; a car slowly trundling past, or a parent helping their toddler on the slippery ice as they hurry to visit a relative. The sleepy calm is nice, a sharp contrast to the city where, even on Christmas day, there was always still a sense of busyness, of constant movement and urgency. Here, Robert can just relax, sinking into the peace and quiet.

Eventually, the village wakes up more, a line of people shuffling through the village like ants; with their vibrant, festive hats and coats, they look like a string of Christmas lights as they wind through the streets on their way to the church for the service. Shrugging on his own jacket, Robert steps out of the house and joins the jolly conga line, tucking his hands into his pockets as he reaches the church. 

It’s packed out inside, most of the village having shown up for the service, even those who, like Robert, aren’t religious and don’t attend on Sundays. Aaron’s in one of the pews, sandwiched between Chas and Paddy, looking bored already. He catches Robert’s gaze and offers a nod. He smiles back before Vic spots him, waving him over to join her.

She’s with the Bartons, one hand tucked into Adam’s coat pocket in a small, cheesy gesture of affection. Andy’s in the same pew with Bernice, Diane and Doug. Clearing his throat, Robert offers a nod of gratitude when they all shuffle up, squishing together to make room for him on the end. 

He ends up tuning out most of the service, but he reckons that if Hell exists, he’s bound to head there anyway considering plenty of other stuff he’s pulled over the years, so he doesn’t feel too bad. Vic has to elbow him in the ribs to remind him when to stand and when to sing, and when to bow his head as Ashley leads the congregation in prayer. The church is cold, the old building echoing with sniffles and the impatient whispers of children, until, finally, it’s over. Robert manages to escape the clutches of Ashley and Laurel, who busy themselves with shaking hands and thanking attendees, but Victoria catches up to him outside.

“Rob,” she says. “Hang on.”

He pauses, half-turning to look at her. “What?”

“Andy wanted me to give you this.” She holds out a small, square package wrapped in tacky Christmas paper. 

Robert eyes it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Dunno, he didn’t say.” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, are you gonna take it or what?”

Resigned, he reaches out, taking the present. He shoves it into his pocket and she smiles, clearly pleased. Adam calls her name so she turns away and Robert makes his escape, heading into the graveyard.

It’s not empty by any means; there are a few people dotted about, paying respects to loved ones on Christmas day. But the patch where Sarah’s headstone is located is, thankfully, deserted, giving him the peace he needs to visit his stepmum’s grave. 

He doesn’t usually speak when he visits her. He’s heard people say that it helps, but it’s never really done the trick for him. It’s easier to just be there, to pay his respects in silence, and he does so now, hands in his pockets and fingers curled around the small present as he gazes at the words engraved in the smooth stone.

He often wonders what she would think of him now. Whether she would be proud of him, whether she would hate him for the things he’s done. She always treated him like her own, no matter what, but he wonders sometimes if she’d disown him if she was still alive, or if she’d kick him into shape in the no-nonsense way she had down pat. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, thinking about her, letting himself dwell on memories, but, eventually, the sky starts to darken, thick clouds smudging across the grey swath like dirt. Glancing towards the village, he watches lights start to flicker on, pinpricks of yellow filling the horizon like stars. He can see the pub, the decorations strung up outside it a blur of festive red, gold and green, smearing colour into the dull grey. 

Casting one last look at Sarah’s grave, he thinks ‘_Merry Christmas_’, but doesn’t say the words out loud as he steps away, making his way back to the path. He knows Andy and Vic will visit the grave later, that they and Diane will go and see Jack, too, and he also knows that Vic would want him to go with them, but he’s glad to have done it alone, to have the opportunity to visit Sarah’s grave without the pressure and judgement of the others. The relationship between him and Andy is more rotten than any of the bones buried underneath the sodden earth; he doesn’t want that staining Sarah’s grave and his memories of her, not today.

He’s almost at the gate when he spots a familiar figure amongst the gravestones. Aaron’s got his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched against the icy wind battering at his back, and he’s not alone. The woman stood next to him isn’t someone Robert recognises, but she’s clearly familiar with Aaron, her hand on his elbow as they both gaze down at a headstone.

Robert doesn’t know why he stays and watches. He’s probably intruding, witnessing something that he’s not been invited to, but he can’t help it. There’s something about Aaron’s stillness, about the way the visceral rawness inside him is, for one, rare moment, completely silent, that is somehow captivating. He watches as Aaron and the woman hug, brief but tight, and then she walks away, leaving the graveyard to climb into a waiting taxi.

Aaron lingers for a moment, resting his hand on the gravestone, and then he turns away too. Robert doesn’t move, even when Aaron’s gaze lands on him, but the younger man doesn’t look bothered by his presence. He glances back in the direction of Sarah’s grave and there’s understanding on his face, but he doesn’t voice it as he joins Robert on the path.

“Alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Robert replies. “You?”

“About as much as I can be after a Dingle family Christmas.” Aaron grins slightly. “I’m glad for a bit of peace and quiet now.”

“Are you heading back to the pub?” Robert nods towards it with his chin. “I’m going there now. Vic promised me some dinner.”

Aaron nods. “Mum’s roped me into helping behind the bar. Do you wanna…?” He shrugs slightly, trailing off, but Robert gets what he’s asking.

“Nah, I’ll see you there. I’ve got to nip home for something.”

“See you there, then.”

He watches Aaron go before turning to make his way to Vic’s. As the winter sun drops lower and lower in the sky, the wind gets even colder, bitterly freezing. The ice on the pavements and road has been turned into sludge, chewed up by too many feet and tyres. A couple of cars crawl past, headlights on to try and combat the dreary dusk, smudging twin spills of murky yellow across the road. The frost catches the light, glittering slightly, and Robert takes a moment to let the slap of cold wind against his cheeks chase off his tiredness. 

He only pops into Vic’s for a minute to grab Aaron’s present from under the tree, but he pauses on his way out, feeling the bulk of Andy’s gift in his pocket. Tugging it out, he looks at it for a long moment, torn between suspicion and something softer, something he usually tries to keep bottled up, locked away under layers of doubt and resentment. Sliding his thumbnail under the Sellotape, he breaks the seal and unfolds the paper; it’s shoddily cut, edges rough and sliced at a weird angle, which is just Andy all over. Inside is a plain black box. He uses a knuckle to pry the lid open.

It’s a tie clip and cufflink set. Good quality, too, by the looks of it; they’re made of polished, gleaming silver, sleek and discreet, tasteful. There’s a word engraved in neat, simple lettering on both the clip and both cufflinks. Robert runs his thumb over it, feels the light scratch of the name against his skin as he reads it. 

_Sugden_.

It tangles his heart into a knot, twisted and wretched behind his ribs. He swallows, tracing the engraving again, mind spinning, calculating all of the tricks and games Andy could be pulling. But as savage as Andy has been in the past and as sceptical as Robert wants to be, he knows exactly what it is. 

It’s an olive branch.

***

The pub is crammed full of people when he finally arrives.

There’s a fire crackling in the hearth and decorations strung up around the room, including a huge Christmas tree taking up one corner. The smell of rich food and booze is thick in the air and Robert can barely hear the Christmas music blaring on the speakers under the sound of chatting and laughing. 

Squeezing his way past the Bartons, Robert leans against the bar. Chas, Charity and Alicia are busy sorting drinks, wearing matching light-up Santa hats and jumpers, dancing ridiculously to the music. Victoria’s behind them, caught in a heated conversation with a harried looking Marlon, but when she catches sight of Robert, she walks away from him. Robert bites back a laugh at Marlon’s outraged expression. 

“Turns out you’re not the only hopeful latecomer,” she says, voice taut with stress. “You’ll have to eat at the bar, sorry.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he replies. “Is Aaron about?”

Rolling her eyes, she gestures over Robert’s shoulder. He twists to look behind him. Aaron, Adam, Ross and Pete are hogging the dartboard, challenging each other with some points game that looks nothing like traditional darts and seems to involve a lot of chugging beer. Aaron actually appears to be getting on with Ross and Pete, cheeks flushed from booze and a bright, genuine laugh on his face as he playfully shoves Ross in the shoulder.

“Your food will be about half an hour,” Vic says. “Do you want a drink?”

“Just a Coke, thanks.”

“I’ll sort it,” Charity cuts in, giving Vic a friendly bump with her hip to get her to move out of the way. “Marlon’s gonna kill somebody in a minute. Go get him to calm down, will ya?”

“Have you met Marlon?” Vic snips, but she obliges, ducking out the back.

Charity pours the drink, placing it in front of Robert. “Do me a favour?” she says. “Tell Aaron it’s his turn behind the bar. Chas is due a break.”

Robert glances at Chas, who is definitely swaying, tipsy and giggling. “A break, or to sleep it off?” 

“Watch it,” Charity warns. “It’s Christmas.”

Grinning, he hands her some money and picks up his glass. He takes a long drink from it so the fizz won’t slosh over the sides as he makes his way over to the dartboard. Aaron’s taking his turn, so Robert waits, leaning against the wall. He lands a perfect bullseye and turns, sticking both middle fingers up with a smug smile at Ross, who sneers back as he digs in his pocket. Reluctantly, he slaps a tenner into Aaron’s palm. 

“Oi,” Robert says, catching Aaron’s attention. “Charity says it’s your turn behind the bar.”

He pulls a face, glancing at the time, but then he spots his mum. “Right,” he agrees. “Mum needs a break.”

Robert grins. “Something like that.”

Aaron finishes his pint and claps Adam on the shoulder. “Make Ross cry, will ya? I want him skint by the end of the night.”

Adam accepts the challenge with a laugh and Aaron smirks at Ross’s “_fuck off_”, making his way to the bar. Robert stays where he is, watching the game unfold between the remaining three players. Without Aaron, Adam’s at a pretty obvious disadvantage, but he shrugs off Ross and Pete’s ribbing with a booze-softened grin, tongue stuck out in concentration as he aims. 

Robert doesn’t hear the door open, but he feels the blast of cold air. It melts into the heat of the pub almost instantly, but the brief second of chill draws his attention to the man sauntering in. He’s not the only one; Ross glances over, then does a double-take when he sees Shane, turning to face him.

“Oi, Maccie,” he shouts. 

Shane looks over and switches direction. Once he reaches them, he slaps his hand against Ross’s waiting palm, tugging him into a quick half-hug, his other hand clapping him soundly on the shoulder. 

“Alright, mate,” he says. “Long time and all that.”

“What are you doing round here?” Ross asks. “Don’t you have that rabble of yours to spend Christmas with?”

“Watch it,” Shane shoots back, but he’s grinning. “I reckoned I’d pop over for a drink with a mate.”

“Aaron, right?” Ross says with a snort. “I can’t believe you’re mates with him. I thought you’d have better taste than that.”

Shane just shrugs. “Anyway, you seen him?”

Ross gestures with his pint towards the bar and Shane nods, giving a friendly punch to his arm before he goes over. Robert watches him, then reaches out, catching hold of Ross’s elbow before he can turn away. He pauses, glancing down at Robert’s hand on his arm, then back up, incredulous.

“It’d be a shame to knock your teeth out on Christmas,” he warns. “So I’d move that if I were you.”

“How do you know Shane?” 

Ross raises his eyebrows. “What’s it to you, sunshine?”

Robert bites back his frustration. “You called him Maccie.”

“Yeah. Shane McCormac. Maccie.” Ross takes a gulp of beer. “What business is it of yours who I talk to? You jealous? You’re not the only crook I know.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Robert replies dryly. “So, you and him, you’re mates?”

“Mates? I wouldn’t go that far. He’s scum. But he’s a McCormac, which makes him the kind of bloke you want to be on good terms with if you ever need something doing, if you catch my drift.”

“Your drift is about as subtle as a sledgehammer, so, yeah, I catch it.”

Ross snorts. “Good talk,” he snarks, shouldering past him to follow Pete to the bar.

Robert rubs a hand over his jaw, glancing over at Aaron. He’s busy talking to Belle, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he laughs at whatever she’s saying to him. Exhaling, he moves to stand next to Adam. He’s fiddling around on his phone, but he glances up, brow furrowing at Robert’s expression.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Have you heard of the McCormac family?” 

“The McCormacs? Yeah, ‘course I have, who hasn’t?” At Robert’s blank expression, Adam adds, “Apart from you, apparently.”

“I don’t exactly keep up with Yorkshire’s finest criminal families,” Robert says. 

“Criminals?” Adam repeats. “That’s being kind. They’re vermin, mate.” 

“Tell me about them.”

“What’s there to say? They’re filth. They make Cain Dingle look like a cuddly puppy.” Adam shrugs slightly. “I’ve never dealt with them personally, but one of ‘em, a lad called Kieron, he was in prison at the same time as me. I was lucky enough to keep off his radar for the most part, until he got involved with kicking the shit out of me, helping his mate’s family bribe my mam. All of them are like that. You need something, they’re the people you go to, but you don’t want to owe them anything. They’re the kind of people to do someone in just for looking at them wrong.”

“Nice,” Robert remarks.

“They’re low-life criminals,” Adam replies. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Because Aaron’s mate Shane? He’s a McCormac.”

Shock slackens Adam’s expression. “You’re kidding me. What the hell is Aaron doing hanging around someone like him?”

Robert hesitates. “Look, Aaron told me something,” he says carefully. “About when he was in prison. Some guys were giving him hassle. Apparently, Shane had his back. They left him alone after that.”

“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “I’m not surprised. There’s a reason that lot are in and out of prison all the time, and there’s a reason they’re not afraid of doing time, either. They can pull all kinds of strings. Those guys were probably terrified of getting whacked by Shane and his family.” He pushes out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “So, what, you think Aaron owes him now? That’s why Shane’s hanging about?”

“I don’t know,” Robert admits. “I just…you’ll keep an eye out, yeah?”

For once, Adam doesn’t snap at him. He looks as concerned as Robert feels. He nods. “Yeah, ‘course.” 

Robert drains the rest of his Coke, setting his glass down on the table. “Maybe I should have a word with him. Shane.”

“Are you stupid? Do you _want_ to end up in a coma?” 

“He’s just one bloke. You think I can’t handle him?”

“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” Adam replies lowly. “But it’s not just one bloke. It’s his whole family and all. You piss him off and who knows what they’ll do. To you _or_ to Aaron.”

He knows Adam’s right, but he doesn’t like feeling useless. The urge to do something, to take control of the situation and fix it, is overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, he fights it, because, for once, what Adam says makes sense. He needs to be smart about this.

Glancing back towards the bar, he pauses when he sees Chas and Charity by the Christmas tree. They seem to be bickering, movements almost comically exaggerated due to their tipsiness; Charity keeps twisting one of the baubles round, and Chas keeps shoving it back the other way. She’s visibly cross, face flushed red, and Charity looks equally frustrated.

Robert squeezes past Adam and makes his way over. Once he’s closer, he can see that, while most of the baubles on the tree are glittery red, gold or green, several of them are clear plastic with photographs inside them of different members of the Dingle family. It’s tacky and Charity all over, but he has to grin at the fact she’s found the most embarrassing photos of her family to use. 

It’s Aaron’s bauble that they’re fighting over. The picture is one of him as a young kid, all round cheeks, freckles, and a goofy smile showing a big gap between his front teeth. Chas twists it again so the photo’s hidden out of view and Charity throws her hands up in exasperation.

“I’m not sure Aaron would mind it being hidden,” Robert remarks. “Could you find a more embarrassing photo?”

“Oh, believe me, I could’ve,” Charity replies. “Except Little Miss Sunshine here barely let me use this one. Just leave it _be_, Chas.”

Robert frowns. “What’s up?”

“Don’t you get it?” Chas slurs. “Don’t you understand what I see every single time I look at that?” She jabs a finger at Aaron’s grinning face inside the bauble. “I see my baby boy. A little kid that I left behind, who Gordon abused.” 

Charity softens. “Oh, Chas,” she sighs.

Robert glances towards the bar. “Look,” he says, then again, harder, when Chas scowls at him. “No, Chas, _look_.” He gestures to Aaron.

He’s still talking to Belle, except Sam and Zak have joined them now. Zak’s telling a story, finger jabbing down at the bar to accentuate whatever he’s saying, clueless to Belle behind him, pulling faces and mimicking his gruff outrage. Aaron laughs, carefree, eyes lit up. It’s the same smile, even so many years later, the same goofy, cheesy grin as when he was a child.

“Do you see _that_?” Robert asks. “You can’t erase the past, Chas. None of us can. But look. He’s got his life back now.”

Tears fill her eyes. She jerks away, but she stops fiddling with the bauble, allowing it to face the pub again. Wobbling in her heels, she hurries away, head bowed to hide her face. Charity meets Robert’s gaze, offering a quick nod before she moves to follow Chas, sobering up now she has some comforting duties to attend to.

“Oi!” 

Robert turns at the sound of Vic’s shout. She lifts a plate slightly in the air, waving him over, and he approaches the bar. He’d almost forgotten about his dinner. Sliding onto a stool, he gets comfy as Vic sets his plate and cutlery down on the bar.

“Cheers,” he says, then rolls her eyes when Marlon shouts through to her from the kitchen. “Duty calls, eh?”

Once she’s gone, Aaron claims her spot, offering a smile.

“Alright? Want another drink?”

“Sure. Just a half, thanks.”

He watches as Aaron pulls the half pint with practised precision. He places it on the bar in front of Robert and accepts the money he hands over, sorting his change. He doesn’t move away when he’s done, instead reaching over to steal a pig in blanket. Robert raises his eyebrows.

“I paid for this, you know.” 

“I’m overworked and hungry?” Aaron offers. 

“You’re a prat,” Robert retorts, and Aaron grins. “I, uh. I have something for you. A present.”

“Oh.” Aaron nods slightly. “I got you something as well. Hang on.” 

Once Belle takes over for him, Aaron ducks out the back, returning with a small gift in his hands. He puts it down, sliding it over the bar towards Robert, and then stands there, looking awkward as he waits for him to open it. Robert puts his knife and fork down and makes quick work of peeling off the paper, opening the box inside.

It’s a mug, plain white ceramic with ‘WORLD’S BEST BUSINESSMAN’ emblazoned on one side in black block letters. Robert huffs a laugh.

“I wanted to get one with ‘World’s biggest prat’,” Aaron jokes. “But I couldn’t find one, so I reckoned that one would do.”

“It’s great,” he replies. “Thanks. Here.” 

Aaron is less careful about unwrapping presents, ripping the paper off, careless of the seams and Sellotape. He flips the lid on the box inside and pauses, surprise flashing across his face. Robert watches, uncertain, as Aaron lifts the figurine out of the box, turning it over in his hands. It’s a sports car, made out of twisted, manipulated pieces of polished metal, glued on to a square of black plastic to keep it upright.

“It’s, uh,” Robert clears his throat. “It’s made of scrap metal. I thought…I dunno. I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” Aaron says, looking up. “It’s brilliant. Thanks.”

He relaxes, relieved. “Merry Christmas, Aaron.”

“Merry Christmas, Rob.”

***

He ducks out shortly after the third, sloppy round of ‘_All I Want for Christmas_’ breaks out in the pub. 

The streets are mostly empty again, lit by the golden puddles spilling from the windows of various houses, but Vic’s house is dark; Victoria will be working until late and Adam’s still in the pub with his family. He doesn’t want to be alone just yet, doesn’t want the lingering warmth of the festivities to fizzle out once there’s no one around for him to share it with. So he makes his way to the village hall, ducking inside to escape the cold.

It’s chaos inside. The hall is well lit with a vibrant mess of its usual stark-bright bulbs and festive strobe lights, the strings of LED bulbs on the Christmas tree stuffed in the corner blinking rapidly. There’s Christmas music playing, but it’s a kid’s pop version of famous songs and carols, complete with bubblegum-pitch voices, lisps and autotune, and the remnants of what looks like a Nativity disaster is scattered on the stage.

There seems to be no age groups bridging the gap between tiny children and the elderly; the zimmer frame brigade is clustered near the table full of nibbles, gossiping and tutting amongst themselves, and hordes of kids are running around the hall in dizzy, clumsy circles, hyped up on sugar, presents and Christmas magic. A tiny circle of tired looking parents hover at the edges of the room, gulping back mulled wine like it’s ambrosia, while Ashley and Laurel dart from person to person, trying to gain some semblance of control over proceedings.

The only person remotely close to Robert’s age is Aaron. He’s leaning against the stage, hands shoved into the pockets of his puffer vest, expression vaguely horrified as he watches the catastrophe unfolding right in front of him. Smiling slightly, Robert moves to join him, tucking his own hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“So,” he says. “This is…hell.”

Aaron pulls a face. “You’re telling me,” he agrees, glancing across at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d show my face, make a donation. Do my bit for the community, you know.” 

“Bribing people to like you?” he jokes, a sly smile on his face, and Robert smirks.

“Something like that. What about you? I wouldn’t have thought this was your kind of scene.”

Aaron snorts. “It’s not,” he replies. “But mum told me I should make an appearance on behalf of the pub, since she’s…indisposed.”

“By ‘indisposed’, you mean sleeping it off on the sofa?” Robert guesses.

“Something like that,” he echoes. “Besides, I wanted to make a donation, for Ashley.”

Robert glances over at the vicar. “I didn’t know you two were mates.”

“It’s…complicated.” Aaron shrugs slightly. “When Jackson died, he, uh…he refused to do the service, called in someone else to do it instead. He said he couldn’t do it because he disagreed with what I’d done. I hated him for that, for a while.”

“But?”

“He was still there to talk to about it,” he says quietly. “He’s a decent bloke. He’s helped me a lot. Always has time for a chat. I came across him in the village a couple of weeks ago, you know. He was alone and had no idea where he was or who _I_ was, but he trusted me enough to let me get him home to Laurel. So, yeah. I thought I should show my support.”

Robert gazes at him for a long moment. Sometimes, he wonders if Aaron knows just how incredible he is, whether he’s aware of just how good a person he is. He suspects he’s still caught up in his past mistakes, still blaming himself for them, blind to his own, casual, modest decency, the kind that Robert hasn’t honestly come across very often before. 

“He advocated for you, you know,” he says after a moment. “When he found out you were innocent. His hands were tied because of his duties, but he advocated for your release. He didn’t want you locked up. He believed in you.”

Aaron slants a look over at him, expression unfathomable. “Is that right?”

Robert nods. “Surprisingly, people seem to actually like you. Weird, isn’t it?”

He snorts, elbowing Robert in the ribs. A boy in an elf onesie blurs past, sliding across the floor in socked feet; he goes flying into a trio of other kids, knocking them over like bowling pins, and instantly, there’s a chorus of screeching. 

Aaron winces. “This is like one of those nightmares you can’t wake up from.”

Robert laughs. “What, this isn’t your idea of fun?” he asks sarcastically. 

“Hardly.”

“Well, how would you rather spend Christmas?”

“I dunno, to be honest,” Aaron admits. “I suppose I’d like a quiet Christmas. Something just…nice, you know? I don’t really have the best memories of the holidays.” At Robert’s questioning glance, he raises his eyebrows slightly. “Well, first mum left, and then every year, with Gordon, playing happy families despite everything…” 

He swallows, jaw clenching as he looks away. “Christmas was just never a great time, okay? And then when I moved back here with mum, the Dingles welcomed me to their big family Christmas, but at first, I was still a complete wreck. I didn’t appreciate it like I should have done.”

Robert looks at him for a long moment, then makes a snap decision. Leaning close, he murmurs in Aaron’s ear, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

His brow furrows. “Why?”

“I want to show you something.” He snorts at the look on Aaron’s face. “Not that. Just, let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Aaron doesn’t press further; he just shrugs and obligingly follows Robert out of the hall, both of them dropping money into one of the donation buckets on their way out of the door. Robert leads the way to Vic’s, digging his car keys out of his pocket. Unlocking the car, he climbs in, and Aaron joins him, buckling his seatbelt.

Waiting for a few minutes for the heaters to kick in and belch warmth into the small interior of the car, Robert turns off the radio, killing the cheery Christmas song blaring from the speakers. The silence is, thankfully, not awkward, but Aaron does give him a look that’s half-inquisitive, half-dubious as Robert pulls away from the curb.

The roads are slippery with ice, so he takes it slow. Aaron is quiet in the passenger seat, but it’s a peaceful quiet instead of his usual sullen disposition, and he sits up a little when Robert does one loop through the village, driving past all of the lights and decorations. Once they pass the sign on their way out of Emmerdale, it’s a long drive down dark, winding country roads to the next village, but Robert knows exactly where they’re going.

The next village over is lit up like they’re hoping to be seen from space, most of the residents having participated in decorating. Robert slows down so Aaron can take in every single house, eventually stopping in front of a semi-detached at the end of a cul-de-sac. He’d been here the week before with Vic, so he’s already seen it; instead of looking at the house, which is decked out with thousands of lights that flash and dance to Christmas music like a show, he watches Aaron.

Eyes glues to the blinking lights and dazzling reindeer, Aaron doesn’t say a word. The festive lights cast half of Aaron’s face into darkness, the other half stained with alternating red, gold and green; his eyes glimmer in the dim interior of the car. Robert gazes at the hard cut of Aaron’s jaw and, when five minutes pass and Aaron still remains silent, his heart starts to sink into his gut.

“This was stupid, wasn’t it?” he murmurs. “Are you completely bored?”

“No,” Aaron says shortly. There’s a rough edge to his voice that suggests he’s on the verge of tears. 

Robert doesn’t press him, letting him have his moment. He gives him what privacy he can by looking away, towards the house. He unfocuses his eyes until the light show is a smudged blur, settling back in his seat. He has no idea how long they sit there like that before Aaron finally speaks again.

“My mum did this once,” he says quietly. “When I was a kid. When I was really young, I used to get so excited about Christmas, and she indulged it. Gordon was working a lot that year and mum and him were rowing constantly, and she could see how upset I was. So one night, she woke me up, put a coat, hat, scarf and gloves over my pyjamas, and took me out of the house. The car was knackered so she couldn’t drive, but I remember it was snowing and there was loads of it on the ground. So she, uh, she ‘borrowed’ this little sled thing from the neighbour’s shed, a cheap, plastic thing that I barely fit in. My knees were all jammed up under my chin and it was really wobbly, but neither of us cared.

“She dragged me all around the streets so I could see the Christmas lights. She was wearing these stupid heels as well and it was bloody freezing, but she kept going, because she could see how happy it made me. It made her happy, too.” Aaron rubs a hand over his jaw. “It was the last Christmas before she left.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert murmurs.

“No. No, don’t be. This is…this is good. I like the lights.”

Robert nods, watching as an LED Santa climbs up the house’s chimney. “I don’t have a lot of happy Christmas memories either,” he admits. “A lot of jealousy and resentment. A lot of hating seeing my dad spoil Andy rotten, while being so clearly disappointed in me, no matter what I did. Too many arguments and too much bitterness between everyone. And then after Sarah died…” He shakes his head slightly. “I like the lights, too.”

Aaron doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to; he gets that Robert understands him. They sit there for several more minutes, gazing at the display, until Aaron nods and Robert starts the engine again, heading back for Emmerdale.

By the time they get back to the village, most of it is dark. Only a few pinpricks of light remain, people lingering up with crappy telly and leftovers before finally heading to bed. The pub is closed and Vic’s house is dark; she and Adam have probably already gone to sleep. Robert pulls up outside the Woolpack, but Aaron doesn’t immediately move to climb out.

“Do you know what you said?” he asks.

Robert frowns. “When?”

“Back in the village hall, about Ashley.” When Robert just shakes his head, confused, he says, evenly, “You said when he found out I was innocent. But if what you said is true, that your memories were hazy but you could remember more details and that the shooter wasn’t me, how would he have known I was innocent before you changed your statement? Why would he have advocated for me being released, unless there was a chance the truth _wouldn’t_ come out?”

Robert wants to hit himself. His belly knots up as he stares at Aaron, mind spinning. He hadn’t even realised he’d slipped up, but Aaron had clocked it. Of course he had. But he hadn’t said anything at the time. Even now, Robert can’t get a read on Aaron’s expression. 

“I…” he manages. “I don’t…” 

Aaron pushes open his door and climbs out, but turns, ducking his head back in. Rapping his knuckles lightly on the roof of the car, he says, “Merry Christmas, Robert.”

The door closes and he walks away before Robert can gather his senses enough to respond. He watches Aaron disappear into the pub, hands tight on the steering wheel as he tries to make sense of Aaron’s response to catching Robert out, but he can’t fathom it. 

He has no idea what Aaron’s thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought a lot about editing Hazel's very brief appearance in this chapter, given she left the show for good, but I decided to keep it. Obviously, the actress and character left the show permanently, but I always found the idea of her not visiting her own son's grave in Emmerdale quite sad, so I wanted to include her brief visit and a moment with Aaron, considering how much they went through. 
> 
> I also think Aaron would visit Jackson's grave on certain dates. Moving on doesn't mean he can't pay his respects at the grave and I would have liked to see that at least once in the show.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: alcohol, harmless drunkenness, discussion of Robert's shooting, implied violence and the aftermath, minor injuries, mention of the fire that killed Sarah Sugden, mention of domestic abuse (in the past, Andy's violence), mild angst, mention of Jack beating Robert, mention of Gordon.

Time between Christmas and January seems to stretch out, suspended between post-festive laziness and pre-New Year celebrations. 

Robert has a consultancy meeting on the 27th, which Victoria looks horrified about because in her book, the day after Boxing Day still counts as Christmas. He spends the rest of his time either hunched over his laptop or on the phone, busy sorting out a new partnership deal that will, hopefully, both increase the profitability of and expand the local courier start-up he’s acquired. 

Vic eventually drags him out of the house on New Year’s Eve. “Fresh air,” she insists. “Socialising. _Fun_. I hear it’s good for ya, you know.”

“I need to get this sorted,” he argues, gesturing to a stack of legal paperwork he still has yet to complete.

“It’ll wait until tomorrow,” she says firmly. “Robert, come on. It’s New Year’s Eve. If there’s one night of the year you can take off, it’s tonight. Come celebrate with us.”

Vic isn’t scheduled to work since it’s her turn to have the holiday off, but they end up at the Woolpack anyway. Chas’s New Year’s theme this year is ‘time traveller’s ball’, offering a huge scope for costumes and outfits; Vic’s wearing a silver sequin dress with thin straps and boots with massive platforms, her hair pinned back from her face with butterfly clips.

“90’s,” she informs him at his raised eyebrow. She waves a hand at his jeans, shirt and blazer. “What decade is _this_ supposed to be?”

“This one,” he replies dryly.

“You’re no fun.”

The pub is already full of people when they arrive, most of the village having turned up for the party; the Whites aren’t doing anything this year, so Chas has no competition. It’s a little claustrophobic, especially with the vibrant, clashing mess of decorations from different decades and eras, an amalgamation of styles that looks like history has spewed up all over the pub. The music blaring over the speakers matches the fluctuating style, going from big band to Motown to EDM as each song plays, and Marlon has put on a huge spread of sophisticated junk food.

“Chas’s idea,” Vic explains. “’Cause the diet starts tomorrow, doesn’t it? So tonight, we feast.”

He shakes his head, smiling slightly. It’s a little chaotic, being surrounded by ancient Egyptians, 20’s flapper girls, and people who look like they belong in _Abba_, but it works for the theme; it’s as ridiculous and unselfconscious as Chas herself is, and Robert finds himself relaxing, enjoying the sheer craziness of it. It’s silly and it’s fun, and it’s what he needs.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” he says. “When will Adam get here?”

“He said he’ll be about ten minutes,” she replies. “Get him a beer, will you?”

Nodding, Robert squeezes past the crowds, managing to find a spot at the bar. Chas and Charity are behind it; Chas is in a full 80’s Cher get up and Charity’s donned a pink leather jacket, poodle skirt and a bow in her high ponytail, looking like a character from _Grease_. They’re dancing to jazz, uncaring of how bizarre it looks, and Robert can’t help but laugh with them.

Chas spots him first. Surprisingly, she doesn’t pull a face, though her grin does fade slightly. Straightening out of her hand jive with Charity, she waves the other woman off when she offers to serve Robert.

“I’ve got it,” she says. She moves to the bar. “What can I get ya?”

“Uh, two pints and a vodka orange,” he replies. “Thanks.”

Chas nods, fixing both drinks. She adds a little sparkly umbrella to Vic’s drink, setting both glasses on the bar, and she takes the twenty pound note he hands her with no fuss, sorting his change. 

“Thanks,” he says again, a little uncertain by her lack of hostility.

“Have a good night,” she replies, tone civil, if not friendly, but it’s more than he’d expected.

Nodding, he takes the drinks, nudging his way through the swarm of people until he finds Victoria again. She’s dancing, but she throws up a big thumbs up when she sees him, accepting her glass. She plucks the umbrella out, placing it on a nearby table, and takes a big gulp, nose wrinkling slightly; Chas is always generous with her portions of vodka.

“Come dance,” she shouts over the music.

Robert laughs. “Let me get a couple of drinks down me and I just might.”

She feigns a surprised gasp. “What’s this? You’re actually planning to have _fun_?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” he replies dryly. 

Before she can say anything back, they’re both distracted by the door opening as a cheer ripples through the pub, followed by several cat-calls and sharp wolf-whistles. They’re aimed at Adam and Aaron as they saunter in side by side, matching smirks on their faces and a swagger in their step. 

It isn’t the first time Robert has seen them dress up in matching costumes; he’d seen the hideous _East 17 jackets_. This time, though, they look good, even Adam. They’re both wearing tweed trousers, matching waistcoat, white shirt and polished Shelby boots. Adam is wearing a blazer, but Aaron isn’t, and neither are wearing a tie; Aaron’s collar is open, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up casually, and there’s a small white handkerchief expertly folded in the pocket of his waistcoat. He’s slicked his hair with gel and he’s wearing a flat cap that, incredibly, looks good rather than ridiculous.

Robert’s seen Aaron in suits. He knows just how good he looks in them. But this is different. Something about the casual suaveness of it, the old-fashioned mobster vibe he’s pulling off, the way he tucks one hand into the pocket of his suit trousers and grins good-naturedly at the wolf-whistling, it stirs heat in Robert’s belly, has him itching to reach out and touch.

Vic looks just as rattled as he feels as she stares at her husband. “Adam said they were gonna go all _Peaky Blinders_,” she says. “But I didn’t think…” She clears her throat slightly. “Wow.”

Robert pulls a face and she nudges him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Like you can talk, smitten kitten,” she points out. “You’ll be drooling over Aaron in a minute.”

He quickly tries to rearrange his expression into something less obvious and she rolls her eyes. Draining the rest of her drink, she sets the empty glass on the table and starts to wriggle through the crowd towards her husband.

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, Robert drags his gaze away from Aaron. Instead of following Vic over, he makes his way to the bar instead, finding space in the corner where it’s a little quieter and less crowded. 

Cain’s already taken up residence right at the end of the bar, a bottle of lager in front of him. Robert leans against the bar next to him, setting his pint down. He glances at the older man, noting the leather jacket and scowl; he hasn’t dressed up, either, and he doesn’t look particularly happy at the similarity to Robert. 

“Well, look at you two,” Charity crows. “You’re wearing matching costumes! Yeah, you’ve both come as boring killjoys. Aw, don’t you look good together? So cute.”

Cain’s already dark frown drops even deeper. He takes a long swig from his bottle, gaze on Charity, but she’s a Dingle and she’s used to his gloomy disposition; she isn’t intimidated by him in the slightest. Smirking, she winks at them both before turning away to serve a 70’s glam rocker. 

Robert reckons it’s probably wise to just ignore Cain, too, so he drinks from his pint and doesn’t say a word. Aaron ducks behind the bar, pulling a face when Chas pulls him into a tight hug, then gives his cheeks an embarrassing, fond squeeze. 

“My boy,” she says proudly to the cluster of people around the bar. “Don’t he scrub up well, eh? When he’s not hiding in those ugly hoodies.”

“Oi,” Aaron replies. “I like those hoodies.”

“N’aww,” she wobbles his cheeks, then squeezes them to make a silly pout face. “Mr Grumpy.” 

“Get off,” he grumbles, squirming free. “What are you like.”

“Finn!” Chas says suddenly. “Alright there, love? He does look fit, though, don’t he?” 

Finn blinks, startled by the sudden attention. “Uh…been there, done that,” he replies. It takes him a second to realise he said that aloud and his eyes widen behind his glasses, a cough catching his throat. “I mean, um.” 

Aaron rubs a hand over his mouth to hide his grin, eyes sparkling. “Alright, alright,” he says. “If we’re done bigging up my ego, who wants a pint?”

“I will,” Robert pipes up, holding up his empty glass. “I’m buying.”

“Sound,” Cain says. “I’ll have the same again, then.”

“I wasn’t…” Robert trails off when he looks at Cain. “Alright, fine. Same again, then. Cheers.”

Aaron pours two pints and grabs another lager for Cain, flicking the cap off with a smooth, practised snap of his hand on the bottle opener. He sets the three drinks on the bar and accepts the cash Robert hands over, sorting his change. After he’s handed him the note and a couple of coins, he doesn’t move away; instead, he leans against the bar on the other side, taking a drink from his beer.

“You do look good,” Robert offers. “It’s a step-up from the white fluffy coats, I have to say.”

Aaron grins. “Vic made Adam marathon the show with her ages ago,” he says. “And so, naturally, he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. I reckoned it was easier to agree to the suits, since mum would try and convince me to wear something a lot worse.” He looks Robert over. “So, what have you come as?”

“Myself.”

Charity leans over Aaron’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah? So what decade is ‘arrogant prat’ from, exactly?”

Aaron grins. “You were born, what? 1986, right?” he says to Robert. “So, 80’s then.”

“Hilarious,” Robert remarks dryly. 

He just shrugs, picking up his pint, and Robert smiles back. He’s surprised, however, when a familiar face appears from the back. Liv’s dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie and she reaches hopefully towards one of the flutes of champagne Chas and Charity are handing out. Without even looking, Chas gives her hand a quick smack, and Liv pulls a sour face.

“Oi,” Aaron says. “What happened to the costume Chas got you?”

“A sequin jumpsuit and rollerblades?” she replies, scrunching her nose up. “Yeah, as if I was actually ever going to wear that.”

“So what decade is this supposed to be, then?” he waves a hand towards her.

Liv looks down at her clothes. “This,” she says, “Is the year 2016.”

Robert grins. “See, she gets it.”

“Boring,” Aaron accuses. “Even I dressed up, you buzzkill.”

Chas claps a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “And from Aaron, that’s really saying something.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Go on,” he says, waving Liv off. “Go have fun.”

“Yeah, but I’m watching you, missy.” Chas points two fingers at her own eyes, then turns them to Liv. “Keep off the booze.”

Liv rolls her eyes, ignoring Aaron’s childish stuck out tongue as she ducks out from behind the bar. Once she’s gone, Robert catches Aaron’s gaze.

“I didn’t know she was around,” he says. “I thought her mum was taking her away?”

“She did,” he replies. “For Christmas. They got back on the 28th. Sandra has something on so I said Liv could stay here for a few days.” 

Robert nods. Aaron looks happy, genuinely happy. He’s only seen Aaron around Liv a few times since the trial, but he always looks softer, more cheerful. It’s obvious how much he adores his little sister. From the moment they reunited in Sandra’s house, he’s looked out for her, wanting to be in her life and be the best possible big brother. It’s clearly been good for him.

“Is she doing your head in yet?” he jokes.

Aaron huffs a laugh. “Nah, she’s been alright. Mum might say different, though.” He raps his knuckles lightly on the bar and leans back. “Anyway, I’d better help out. Have a good night, yeah?”

Robert nods. “Yeah. You too.”

Somewhere between his third pint and his fourth, Robert ends up dancing. The pub isn’t exactly the most ideal place for dancing – in the packed space, people keep knocking into tables and chairs, or each other – and it’s pretty hard to find a rhythm when the music switches from ‘_Stayin’ Alive_’ to a Lindy Hop song, but he throws himself into it anyway, ignoring Adam’s judgement and Vic’s laughter.

Eventually, though, he sees Cain disappear from the bar and, with Chas and Charity busy handing out drinks, Robert takes his chance. He leans against the end of the bar, catching Aaron’s gaze, and gives a nod of his chin to ask him to come over. Aaron obliges, hands tucked casually into his pockets as he leans against the other side of the bar. The posture slants his body at an angle, has his trousers pulled taut and shirt straining at his broad shoulders.

Robert _wants_. He’s never felt desire like he’s felt with Aaron, this intense, wild craving. He could never get enough of him, of his mouth and his hands and his body, and looking at him now, at how good he looks in his suit, he aches to just reach out and pull Aaron into a kiss. 

When Robert doesn’t say anything, Aaron raises his eyebrows slightly.

“So, what’s up?” he prompts.

“I just…I wanted to talk to you.”

Aaron shrugs with his mouth. “About?”

“About what you said. On Christmas.” Robert hesitates, giving a quick glance around before he leans closer, lowering his voice. “About when I got shot.”

“Right,” Aaron replies. His expression and tone doesn’t change; he’s calm to the point of being bored. “What about it?”

“I just thought…” Robert frowns slightly. “Well, I guess I thought you’d want to talk about it. Or shout at me, I suppose.”

“Nah,” he says. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“So, you’re not bothered by what I said?” 

He’s missing something. He has to be. He knows Aaron. Robert had slipped up; Aaron should be hounding him, trying to find out what he knows about the shooting, not acting like it’s no big deal.

Aaron’s expression turns belligerent. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need to talk to you about it, or shout, or ask you what you meant,” he says calmly. “I know what you meant. You know exactly who shot you. That’s why you changed your statement to get me out of prison, isn’t it? You found out it wasn’t me.”

Robert stares at him. “But you’re not gonna ask me who it was?”

“I don’t need to.” Aaron leans in, obnoxiously casual, smiling his fuck-you grin. “’Cause I already know.”

His heart pounds in his chest. For a moment, all he can do is look at Aaron, searching his gaze to see if he’s bluffing, if this is just him trying to antagonise Robert, but he just holds Robert’s stare, giving a slight, indifferent shrug at the panic on Robert’s face. 

“How?” Robert finally manages. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m not an idiot, Robert.” Aaron leans back, shaking his head. “I can think of only two reasons why you would cover for the person who tried to kill you. To have something over them, or to protect them. I thought about Chrissie at first, but, nah. She was too hostile after. She wouldn’t have gone for you so much if she was scared you’d tell the coppers about her. 

“So, then I thought, who would Robert want to protect enough to hide the fact that they shot him? There’s only really two people, isn’t there? And it’s not Vic. She’d never do that. Which leaves…” He trails off and nods with his chin towards something over Robert’s shoulder.

Twisting round, Robert’s gaze instantly finds Andy. He’s sat with Bernice, dressed in a hideous 90’s raver get-up. Tucked in one of the booths, half of his face is hidden in the shadows, but the side Robert can see is enough to make him wince. One eye is half swollen shut, bruised purple-black, and there’s a slim cut on his cheekbone. 

“Andy?” Robert says. “No, he had an alibi. You’re wrong.”

“Right, because no one has ever hired someone to do their dirty work, have they?” Aaron replies. “It doesn’t take much to find some low-life willing to do the job. He gets an alibi and you get shot.”

Robert stares at Aaron. With his hands placed palm down on the bar, he can see the puffy, sore state of Aaron’s knuckles, and he shakes his head.

“So you beat him up?” he demands.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Aaron replies instantly, mouth turning up into a smug smile.

Robert shakes his head. He won’t lie and say he’s completely bothered by the idea of Andy getting knocked around a bit. After all, he _did_ try and have Robert killed.

“And what about me?” he asks. “I mean, I lied. I kept it a secret from you.”

“You also got me out of prison,” Aaron points out. His expression softens ever so slightly at the edges. “And you don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m your friend.”

“Yeah. And he’s your brother.”

“He’s not -.” The denial is automatic and he snaps his teeth shut to silence it, exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I hid the gun,” Aaron reminds him. “To protect my mum. I can’t really have a go at you for protecting Andy, can I?”

Robert eyes him. “But you’re not okay with it. Are you?”

“Of course I’m not okay with it. I got locked up and put through hell because of him. Why do you think his face looks like that? But you and me, we’re alright.” Aaron runs a hand over his jaw. “He told me who it was, by the way. That shot you, I mean.”

Robert almost looks over to where Ross is sitting with Pete and Finn, but he resists the instinct, instead searching Aaron’s expression.

“So if that’s what you did to Andy,” he says. “What are you planning to do to _him_?”

Aaron smiles.

***

Unsurprisingly, Andy finds him later, gesturing for Robert to follow him out the back. 

For a moment, he considers ignoring him out of sheer spite alone, but he needs to know what Andy plans to do about Aaron knowing, so he reluctantly obliges. Marlon looks surprised at the sight of the two of them, but he seems happy enough that they appear to be civil, so he allows them use of the back room. 

Andy checks that there’s no one else about, then closes the door, giving them privacy. Robert leans his hip against the back of the couch, folding his arms as he looks at the other man.

“Looks nasty,” he remarks, nodding to Andy’s face.

“Aaron,” he explains. “He knows.”

“I didn’t tell him, not properly,” Robert says immediately. It’s not an apology, but it’s close, and it feels weird and uncomfortable to be almost-apologising to Andy of all people. “I slipped up and he put two and two together.”

Andy shakes his head. “It’s fine. He was bound to find out sooner or later.” At Robert’s frown, he clarifies, “You would’ve told him eventually.”

Robert bristles at the accusation. “I wouldn’t -.”

“For him? You would.” There’s no heat in Andy’s tone. “It’s fine, Robert. I get it.”

He has a point. Eventually, he would have told Aaron, if only because being anything but truthful with him feels wrong these days. It’s strange and unsettling; he can lie to anyone else and not feel any of it, but it’s different with Aaron. Besides, Aaron spent weeks in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. He’s probably owed the truth. 

“So, he beat you up,” Robert says.

“A couple of punches,” Andy replies. “I have to hand it to him, he’s got a solid right hook. He’s definitely a Dingle.”

He rubs slightly at his jaw, remembering being on the receiving end of that right hook. Aaron’s a caged animal at the best of times, waiting for something to draw out that anger; he fights viciously and he fights wildly, but there is skill in the chaos, reflecting practise and possibly training, probably with Zak. Andy’s right: Aaron’s right hook is nothing to be laughed at.

“Is that all?” he asks. “No kick to the ribs?”

“Nah. Just this.” Andy waves a hand towards his face. “It’s okay. I reckon I deserve it.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t asking out of concern. I was asking out of hope.”

He scoffs. “Nice. Fuck you too.”

Robert just smirks. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he asks, “What are you gonna do?”

Andy frowns. “About what?”

“About Aaron,” Robert says. “About him rearranging your ugly mug.”

“Nothing.” When Robert raises his eyebrows in obvious disbelief, he insists, “I can’t exactly drop him in it, can I? Not with what he’s got on me.” 

“Aaron won’t go to the police. And he won’t tell anyone else, either.” 

He doesn’t know where the certainty comes from. After all, Aaron is unpredictable on his best day, downright vindictive on his worst; when given cause to be, at least. But, somehow, he just knows. He believes in Aaron.

“No, I know,” Andy replies. “He said as much. But he might change his mind if I went to the police. Besides, after I let him take the fall for what I did, I’m probably owed a punch or two.”

“So you’ll leave him be?” 

He knows Andy won’t pursue what happened with Katie, won’t go after Aaron for his involvement in it. Maybe they’re not even, not in Andy’s eyes; a few weeks banged up isn’t equal to losing Katie. But, as poisonous as Andy can be towards him, Robert knows that Andy tries to be, for the most part, a decent bloke, and that he doesn’t want grief, not anymore. He isn’t looking for feuds or hassle. Even if he did, he wouldn’t involve the police, not when Aaron could just as easily drop him in it in response.

“If he leaves me be,” Andy replies. 

“So, what do you want?”

“I told him about Ross.”

Robert nods. “Yeah, he said.”

“What’s he planning?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. But it’s Aaron, so it could be anything. Why?”

“You didn’t see them two when Aaron first got back,” Andy says. “They went at each other’s throats every chance they got. They’re like fire and gasoline, Robert, and if Aaron starts something, Ross will react. If it spirals out of control…”

“It won’t,” Robert cuts him off. “Besides, what’s Ross gonna do? Implicate himself in my attempted murder, just to spite Aaron?”

“None of us will come out of this well if things blow up,” Andy points out. “I’m asking you to get a handle on it.”

“Oh, so my manipulative, scheming, vindictive ways you keep going on about, they’re okay when it benefits you, is that right?”

“Rob -.” Andy bites back his first, instinctive response, looking away. He exhales slowly. “Vic said she gave you your present from me.”

He thinks about the tie pin and cufflinks, still in their box back at Vic’s, unworn and hidden from view. “Yeah,” he says. “Shoved ‘em in a drawer somewhere.”

Andy doesn’t look upset. Instead, he raises his eyebrows and says, evenly, “You didn’t throw them out, though.”

_Prick_. 

“So? What do you expect from me?” he snaps. “You buy me some flash bit of silver and I’m, what, supposed to forgive and forget?”

“Hold on,” Andy shoots back. “When it comes to forgiving and forgetting, I reckon I’ve got a lot more to do when it comes to you, don’t I? You’re not the victim here, Robert.”

“No. No, ‘cause I never am, am I? But you, oh, poor Andy Sugden. Poor Andy, the favourite child, everyone’s beloved golden boy who can’t do no wrong, poor Andy, who killed mum, who beat his missus, who –.”

Andy’s hands curl in his jacket, shoving him back until his spine is bent uncomfortably, but Robert doesn’t back down or flinch.

“And what about you?” Andy shouts. “What about all the things _you’ve_ done?”

“Things I’ve answered for,” Robert argues. “But you never have to answer for the shit you do, do you? I mean, look at you! Acting all humble, like being punched a couple of times is a fitting punishment for attempted murder! I nearly _died_ and you got away with it.” 

He expects Andy to hit him, or yell some more, to dredge up every bit of poison between them to fling in Robert’s face. He doesn’t expect him to deflate, as if completely drained by Robert’s words. His hands sag, dropping back to his own sides, and he steps back, eyes suspiciously wet as he looks away.

“You know,” he says, voice quiet now, hoarse. “There were times you wouldn’t spit on me.”

“Nah,” Robert replies coolly. “I’d always spit on you.”

Andy shakes his head. He doesn’t rise to Robert’s words; if anything, they seem to make him slump even more, fight completely gone. There’s no anger, no spite, no viciousness. Instead, he just looks tired and full of grief, haunted by too many ghosts. 

“You’ve hated me for so long, haven’t you?” he murmurs.

The genuine regret in his voice, the lost quality to his words, like they’re kids again, not grown men with the bare, brittle bones of their history laid out between them, has Robert’s heart twisting in his chest. No matter how hard he tries to keep his armour up, Andy’s words cut straight through it.

“I’ve always loved you underneath,” he admits quietly. Somehow, despite his expectations, the truth doesn’t taste like ash in his throat, doesn’t feel like a weakness or a surrender.

Andy’s gaze snaps up, searching Robert’s expression. He wants to hide; it’s instinct now, forged over too many years than is healthy. But he fights the urge, letting himself be flayed open, honesty on full display. He’s so sick of fighting. That thirst for revenge, for victory, that fuelled him when he first returned to the village feels like an old, strange memory, empty and haunting, unable to touch him anymore. He’s done with wanting to hurt Andy; he doesn’t want to drag out the feud that has spent years ruining their family and ruining their lives. 

“Do you get what it meant?” Andy asks finally. “The gift?”

Robert swallows. “Yeah. Family.”

“’Cause we are,” he insists. “We’re family, Robert. That’s important. No matter what has happened…family is what matters. I’m tired of fighting. You’re my brother and this, this is a new year. It’s about time for a new start, don’t you think?”

He pulls a face. “Careful,” he remarks flippantly. “You’ll be putting up ‘_Live, Laugh, Love_’ signs and banging on about positive vibes next.” 

Andy huffs a laugh, rubbing a hand across his face. “I mean it, though, Rob.”

Somehow, remarkably, it’s an even easier decision than it was with Chrissie. “I know,” he says. “A new year, then. Brother.”

He watches the way Andy’s shoulders slump, his relief palpable. He thinks about that night at the quarry, the sheer grief and exhaustion seeping out of his pores, clinging to him like a shroud. This tiredness is different. It’s a cleansing kind of tiredness, the kind that will bring better things in its wake. 

_A new start_, Robert thinks. He wonders if they’ll actually be able to manage it, or whether those skeletons will come knocking again. If there’s one thing he’s learnt by now, it’s that he can’t outrun the shadows and he can’t hide from his past, no matter how hard he tries. 

But he _wants_ to try. 

He wonders what Sarah would think of them now. What _he_ would think. Would he be proud, or would he be disappointed in Andy forgiving him so easily? He wonders what Andy would think now if Robert told him what their father did, told him about the bite of their dad’s belt and the disgust and disappointment in his gaze. He finds he can’t do it, not yet. Not because it feels like a weakness, like some kind of admission that Andy can use against him, but because he’s tired of breaking Andy’s heart.

There’s a clatter outside the door; Diane, probably, or one of the Dingles heading down to the cellar to change barrels. Andy clears his throat, steeling himself to walk back into the party, but he pauses, glancing back at Robert.

“What about Ross?”

“He won’t spill a word,” Robert assures him. “He’s a scrote, but he’s smart enough not to land himself in it. Aaron won’t push too far, anyway. He’s not out to get anyone locked up.”

Andy nods, taking him at his word, and quietly leaves. Robert doesn’t immediately follow. He feels too raw to go back out to the music and celebrations. He takes a few minutes to pull himself back together, to let the pressure behind his ribs seep away.

The sound of the back door opening and shutting startles him; a second later, the door to the living room swings open. Aaron pauses when he sees Robert and it’s obvious he’s been up to no good; skulking in through the back door, peeling a pair of leather gloves off his hands. But he doesn’t look sheepish or caught out, just turns his chin up slightly and holds Robert’s gaze.

Robert’s the first to speak. “You know,” he remarks lightly. “I feel like I shouldn’t appreciate this,” he waves a hand towards Aaron, “as much as I am. I suppose I must have a thing for the bad boys.”

Aaron snorts, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah? Well, I’ll be sure to let Cain know. He’ll be chuffed to bits.”

“Cain? Nah, I don’t like them old and sullen. I like them young and sullen, apparently.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you flirt with all of your mates?”

“Only the ones I think are worth it,” he replies honestly. “Which is pretty much just you, actually.”

Aaron slants him a look, quiet for a second before he deflects, “Yeah, I think you’ve had a few too many, mate. The fireworks haven’t even started yet, you don’t want to be too hammered to miss them.”

There’s a cheesy retort on the tip of his tongue, but Robert swallows it back. He isn’t going to push Aaron, as much as he enjoys the look on the other man’s face whenever he flirts with him. He accepts Aaron’s deflection for what he knows it is: a request for more space, for more time. 

Together, they head back to the party, only to find the pub mostly empty. Aaron doesn’t look surprised, just leads Robert out through the main doors, where everyone has congregated, crowded together in the small space in front of the pub.

Charity spots them and weaves her way through the cluster of tipsy villagers, handing them both a flute of champagne. Robert looks around, catches sight of Vic with Adam; he’s wrapped around her from behind, his jacket slung over her shoulders to keep her warm, both of them watching the sky in anticipation of the fireworks. Diane, Doug, Andy and Bernice are with them. 

He wonders if he should go over and join them to see in the New Year with his family, but he finds he’s happy where he is. There won’t be a kiss at midnight, won’t be anyone to stumble home with, drunk and giggling; there won’t be someone to wake up to with on the first day of the new year, to spoil with breakfast in bed and indulge in lazy sex with. Yet he doesn’t mind.

Chas leads the countdown, everyone joining in, loud and a little slurred, until the clock strikes midnight and there’s a roaring chorus of ‘_Happy New Year_!’ People start singing something that vaguely resembles ‘_Auld Lang Syne_’, except no one really knows the lyrics and mumble their way through most of it; there’s tipsy dancing, a frankly uncomfortable amount of snogging and definitely too much groping, and a lot of hugging. Fireworks spear into the sky, splattering explosions of colour across the inky darkness, the crackles and booms filling the village. 

Robert watches for just a few seconds, taking in the patchwork of hues sparkling amongst the stars, but he’s seen plenty of fireworks before. He turns his head instead to look at Aaron. Charity’s got an arm slung around his shoulders, wobbling slightly as she warbles along with the others singing, glass of champagne raised into the air. Chas is on Aaron’s other side, pressing kisses to his face and smooshing his chin as she wishes him a Happy New Year, ignoring the way he tries to wriggle free, feigning embarrassment.

But he’s smiling, easy and genuine, carefree in a way that is so rare for Aaron. It makes him look younger, more his age, rather than someone who had to grow up too fast, who was shaped by what he was put through, moulded by too many things haunting him. His eyes are lit up as he watches the sky, the fireworks spilling dazzling light across his face, throwing his jaw into sharp relief, and Robert feels the smile on his own mouth, savours the way he feels so light and so full all at once, in the best possible way.

No, there’s no other way he’d prefer to see in the New Year than like this, here and now, with Aaron, even if it’s not in exactly the way he covets. 

But it’s enough. Aaron, just Aaron, _only_ Aaron, will always be enough.

***

He plans to head home after the fireworks. He’s tired and, admittedly, a little buzzed, and maybe he’s turning into a grumpy old man now he’s in his thirties because he just wants to sleep. But Vic convinces him to head back into the pub to continue the party.

It winds up a lot less crowded as plenty of people go home, either drunk and in need of their bed, or to tuck in their kids and see the babysitter off. A few clusters of people remain, however, more than happy to turn the party into a lock-in, encouraged by Chas’s happy mood, a fresh flow of booze, and leftover pizza and doughnuts.

Robert joins Vic and Adam in the booth in the corner with a pint. Aaron and Liv join them, sitting opposite them; Liv looks exhausted, but she’s powering through, guzzling down a lemonade, clearly not wanting to be sent off to bed now midnight has come and gone. Aaron glances at her, amused but indulgent, and seems happy enough for now to let her stay up and downstairs in the pub.

“So,” Vic says. She leans her head on Adam’s shoulder, yawning. His jacket is still around her shoulders and the glitter on her face has been smeared all over, mascara streaking down her cheeks; she looks like the gory aftermath of a _Spice Girls_ concert. “New Year. What’re your resolutions?”

“I don’t really do ‘em,” Aaron replies. “Just keep focusing on the scrapyard, I suppose. And keep looking out for this one.” He nudges Liv with his shoulder.

“I don’t need looking after,” she protests, but she looks happy at the promise all the same. “I don’t do resolutions either.”

“You could do better at school,” Aaron suggests. “Maybe actually start _going_, rather than bunking off every day. Stop bickering with your mum. Try to be less of a grumpy brat. Do your homework on time. Try to -.”

“Okay, okay,” she interrupts, scowling. “I get it.”

He grins, pulling her into a side-hug. “I was a right nightmare when I was your age, too.”

“What do you mean ‘was’?” Adam grins. “You still are, mate.”

Vic cuts in before Aaron can banter back, sitting up enough to slap one palm down on the sticky table. “Well,” she announces, words softened by booze. “_I_ have a few. I’m gonna finally get my business started. My own food van. And I’m going to be more patient. _And_ I’m going to get knocked up.” She pauses, looking at Adam with a goofy grin. “Or at least have lots of fun trying.”

Robert pulls a face. “Ugh, do you have to?”

Adam looks delighted, despite the matching expressions of horror on everyone else’s faces. Aaron’s actually put his hands over Liv’s ears, but she doesn’t seem to mind, apparently too perturbed by the reference to Vic and Adam’s sex life to be annoyed at her brother’s joke mollycoddling. 

“Well,” Aaron says. “If you two are gonna have a baby, Rob will have to find somewhere else to stay, won’t he?”

Robert raises an eyebrow. “You offering?”

Liv’s eyebrows scrunch together in Total Judgement. “I thought you said he was suave,” she says to Aaron.

He looks at Aaron, grinning, and the other man shifts slightly, looking more than a little embarrassed. 

“I didn’t exactly say _suave_,” he mutters. 

“Then what _did_ you say?” Robert asks, unable to keep from smirking.

“Dunno,” Aaron snips. “But I’m pretty sure the words ‘arrogant’ and ‘prat’ were in there somewhere.”

“They were,” Liv agrees. “Along with ‘charming’.”

“Liv, shut up,” he grumbles at his sister, slumping over the table. He takes a long gulp from his beer.

She just smiles and shrugs, clearly pleased with her work. Robert laughs quietly, shaking his head, but he doesn’t press Aaron. Vic’s oblivious, busy murmuring something in Adam’s ear that Robert is incredibly glad he can’t overhear, and Aaron avoids Robert’s gaze, looking instead at the wall.

The music has been turned down a fair bit out of respect for the villagers that have gone to bed, so the sound of the door banging open is loud in the pub; it ricochets off the wall with a _slam_ as Ross storms in with a face like thunder. He doesn’t hesitate and he doesn’t take any notice of Chas’s annoyed "_oi!_", instead marching straight over to the booth Aaron is sat at.

“You,” he seethes, stabbing a finger in Aaron’s direction.

Aaron straightens, pointing at his own chest with an innocent expression. “Me?” 

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

He smiles. “Just enjoying a pint, mate. Maybe you should try the same. You look a little wound up.”

“Yeah, because some bastard has gone and battered my car,” Ross belts. “I know it was you, Dingle. I saw you slipping out earlier, you weasel.”

Aaron shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Ross jerks forward, violence written in his every muscle, eyes blazing. “It’s smashed to bits! With a fucking _wrench_. It was you, weren’t it, you little snake.”

Aaron leans forward, eyes sparkling, expression calm to the point of belligerence. “No idea what you’re talking about, mate. I’ve been here this whole time.”

He sneers. “Yeah, because you’re always exactly where you say you are, right? Like the night your old man had to give you an alibi?”

Both Adam and Robert tense, ready to step in, wary of Aaron’s reaction. Bringing up Gordon is a sure fire way to push his buttons enough to provoke violence. Adam reaches under the table, giving Aaron’s knee a firm, warning squeeze, a silent reminder that Ross isn’t worth it. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Adam lies. “He’s been with me all night.”

“Yeah, and me,” Liv agrees. “So do one.”

There’s danger in Aaron’s expression, his jaw clenched hard enough to grind down stone, but he smiles all the same. “There you go,” he says. “Wasn’t me. Sorry about your car, though. Kids these days. It’s just pure, mindless vandalism.”

Robert presses his hand over his mouth to smother a laugh. Despite how, in the past, Aaron has called him out on his own less than legal behaviour, he isn’t annoyed by Aaron’s own actions. He finds it impressive, actually. Aaron’s smart; he knows better than to settle things with his fists when it comes to Ross, who will always give back what he gets and then some; he knows to play the sly game, to be more calculating about it, in order to get to Ross. Maybe Robert wasn’t entirely kidding earlier, because he finds it ridiculously intoxicating. Aaron, when he’s like this, is undeniably attractive. 

“Do you really think you can squirm your way out of this?” Ross seethes, slamming his hands down on the table.

Aaron shrugs. “Nothing to squirm my way out of,” he replies obnoxiously. “If I were you, I’d chalk it up to one of the many unsolved crimes around here. There’s plenty of ‘em. Like Robert’s shooting.”

There’s a split second where Ross just stares at him, the words sinking in. Then he leans back, eyes widening slightly, but he doesn’t let his shock show, wary of their audience. Aaron holds his gaze, unblinking, as Chas folds her arms.

“Oi,” she calls. “If you’re done accusing my son of something he hasn’t done, I’d suggest you leave. _Before_ I bar you.”

Ross’s upper lip curls slightly, his anger vivid on his face, but he’s at least smart enough to know better than to react. Aaron has him and they both know it. 

Aaron grins. It isn’t a nice smile; it’s friendly, casual and smug, and it’s more of a threat than any colourful description of violence Cain has ever offered. It’s a promise. “You take care, mate,” he throws out.

It takes Pete hurrying over and grabbing his brother by the arm to stop Ross from going for Aaron, who looks like he wouldn’t give a toss if he did. He holds Ross’s stare, unruffled and smirking, as Pete drags him towards the door; only when it’s shut does he look away, looking beyond pleased with himself as he finishes his pint.

Adam narrows his eyes slightly. “Mate,” he says, shaking his head. “Tell me it weren’t you.”

Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, it’s nothing to do with me,” he replies. When Adam looks dubious, he casts a significant look towards Liv, who’s fiddling on her phone. Wisely, Adam drops it.

Robert finishes his own beer. “So,” he says. “Is that it?”

Aaron glances towards the closed doors, pondering it for a second. Finally, he shrugs. “Yeah,” he replies. “I suppose it is.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a fair bit of content warnings to cover in this chapter: discussion of Gordon and past child sexual abuse, including Aaron talking about details that might disturb or trigger some readers, so please proceed with caution; heavy angst; panic attack; mention of self-harming; discussion of mental health; mention of suicide (Gordon's); alcohol; a very briefly mentioned, implied one night stand between Aaron and a character that isn't Robert; drugs (spice); explicit sexual content.

Vic spends New Year’s Day on the couch, hungover and grumpy, watching Disney films with Adam. 

Robert spends it hunched over paperwork. The café is shut and he reckons the pub will still be a mess from the night before, so he sits at the table, trying to find space for everything he needs as he works. 

He has two meetings the following day and a web call with a potential client for his new venture. It’s busy work, juggling different responsibilities, but he’s always enjoyed having his fingers in several pies, always had the patience and sharpness for managing multiple enterprises. He likes the fast pace of it and the victory of pulling it all off. 

The 5th rolls around quickly. It snows the night before; dawn brings a thick blanket of it on the ground, clinging to the stone buildings and coating the pavements and roads, turning the fields into swaths of pure, thick white, undisturbed by animals or farm machinery. It shrouds the village in an isolated kind of quiet, peaceful and sleepy. The rising sun spills violet, gold and pink across the sky and the snow glitters; flat winter sunlight catches and splinters off slopes and peaks of ice like fractured diamonds.

Robert’s out before Vic and Adam, braving the roads for a meeting. His new website is finalised; he pays the remaining fee and that’s it, it’s his own webpage. Seeing it launch is beyond satisfying. After working so hard for the Whites’ business and losing it all after, it feels good to have something of his own, something that no one else can touch or take or ruin. It feels like he’s finally doing what he was always supposed to, rather than chucking it all away in his search for revenge and validation.

When he gets back to the village, the scenery is a lot less pleasant. Cars and pedestrians have churned up the snow; dirt washes the white to a grim grey and it’s turned into slippery ice and sludge. The winter sun has bleached the sky to a dreary blandness and it’s cold enough that Robert’s breath fogs in front of his face, his body warmer and leather jacket doing little to ward off the brittle wind. He ducks into the café, sighing in relief as the heat spilling from the radiators itches over his frozen skin. 

Aaron’s slouched in the sofa in the corner, one foot propped lazily on the low coffee table as he messes around on his phone. He’s dressed for the weather, wearing a puffer vest and a hat, a pair of gloves discarded next to him.

Robert catches Bob’s gaze. “Americano, thanks,” he says, then gestures to the sofa. “I’ll just be…”

“Right you are,” Bob replies cheerfully. 

He drops down into the chair opposite Aaron, sitting back to get comfortable, legs slouched slightly. Aaron glances up, an annoyed expression on his face, but it shifts to a friendly nod and a smile when he sees that its Robert.

“Alright?” he says.

“Yeah,” Robert replies. He nudges Aaron’s foot with his own. “Hey. Happy birthday.”

He smiles. “Cheers.”

“How’s it feel to be twenty-five? Over the hill and all that, the best years behind you,” he jokes.

Aaron snorts. “Says the bloke who’s thirty. You’re ancient, mate.”

“Oi.” Robert nudges him again, grinning. “Really, though. Good birthday so far?”

He shrugs. “Only been up for a couple of hours,” he says. “But, yeah. Liv had to go back home yesterday, but she video called me earlier. Paddy popped round for breakfast. It’s been good.” 

Robert nods. “I sort of got you something. Is that weird?”

“Depends on what you got me,” Aaron replies without missing a beat, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“I haven’t got it on me,” he says, smiling. “But I can come round later?”

He shrugs. “Or you could come with us tonight.” At Robert’s blank expression, he explains, “Night out to celebrate.”

“In Hotten?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not fancy enough for you? We’ll be grabbing a couple of beers in Bar West, if you think you can handle that.”

Robert leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “I’m sure I’ll survive. Who else is going?”

“Adam, Debbie, Charity and Shane.”

“Clubbing with that lot sounds like my idea of a nightmare,” he says bluntly, grinning when Aaron sticks up his middle finger. “What time?”

“We’ll be at the pub until eleven.”

Robert nods. “I’ll try and make it.”

Aaron smiles back, taking a gulp from his tea. Bob appears, dropping off Robert’s Americano. 

“Cheers,” Robert says, handing him enough coins to cover the charge and a tip.

“So,” Aaron says when they’re alone again. “What’s got you up and about this early?”

“I had a meeting. My website’s launched. Hang on a sec.” He picks up his satchel from the floor, digging inside until he finds his tablet. Swiping his fingers across the screen, he brings up his webpage, then flips the tablet so it’s facing Aaron. “What do ya think?”

Aaron leans forward, reading the neat script at the top of the page. “Sugden Consultancy?”

“Yep. I reckoned with the qualifications and experience I’ve got under my belt, I’d make a go of it as a business consultant.”

“A business consultant,” he repeats, eyeing the tablet.

“Yeah. Clients pay me to take a look at and analyse their business, looking at cash flow, liability, networking, all that stuff. I give them a report on where they could improve their profits and expand their enterprise. That sort of thing.”

“So, basically,” Aaron says. “People pay you to run their business.”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Oh, really?” Charity pipes up, appearing at Robert’s shoulder. She leans over him, resting her arm along the back of his chair. “Got some business tips on there, have you?” She gestures to the tablet.

“Not yet,” he hazards.

“Ah. Well, I can help you out, if you like. Business tip one: shag a filthy rich older woman to worm your way into her filthy rich family. Business tip two: don’t cock it all up by shagging a skint mechanic behind your wife’s back. I think that just about sums it up, don’t it?” Charity offers Aaron a wink. “No offence, love. Oh, and, uh, happy birthday. Many happy returns and all that. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Aaron shakes his head slightly. “Yeah, see you later.”

Charity gives Robert a friendly pat on the head as she pulls away, ignoring the way he tries to shrug away from it. He watches her continue on to the counter to order a drink before glancing back at Aaron. He gives a small, amused smile that Robert returns.

“So,” he says. “How’ve you been?”

“In the four days since you last saw me?” Aaron points out and Robert shrugs. “I’m good. How are you doing? Apart from the whole…” he gestures to the tablet. “Consultancy thing. Congrats, by the way.”

Robert raises his eyebrows. “Why do I feel like you’re deflecting?”

“I’m not deflecting, Robert.” Aaron leans his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his propped fist. “I’m asking how you are. I’ve heard that friendship is a two way street, ya know. You’ve been having a rough time of it lately and all, and who’s been looking out for you?”

“Well. Vic. And I had tea with Diane yesterday.” He replies dryly.

Aaron makes a face as if to say ‘_exactly_’. “So? I mean, with the divorce from Chrissie and work and everything, are you doing alright?”

Robert picks up his coffee, curling his palms around the hot ceramic. It stings the sensitive skin of his fingers, but melts the lingering chill in his bones. Steam billows off the surface, curling into the air, and he watches it, mulling over Aaron’s question. 

“I’m…yeah, I’m alright, actually,” he says. “The divorce came through before Christmas.”

Aaron meets his gaze. “How do you feel about it?”

Back at the start, Robert would have assumed it was an accusation, but he knows Aaron better than that now. He’s just concerned. 

“Surprisingly, okay,” Robert answers. “Relieved, actually, if I’m honest. After everything, it was right to just be done with it. Now we don’t have to have anything to do with each other. I gave her my wedding ring to sell or throw out, whatever she wants to do with it.”

Aaron smirks. “I bet she’ll burn it on a bonfire. Or put it in the crusher.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “Work is going alright, too. A few ventures are paying off; I’m actually making an income now. I might be able to get my own place soon and move out of Vic’s. Me and Andy are being civil.” 

“Good,” Aaron says, nodding. “I’m happy for you, Rob.”

“Thanks.” Robert takes a sip of his coffee, then gives Aaron a pointed look. “So. What about you?”

Aaron looks away, chewing slightly on his thumbnail. His knee starts to bounce. Robert watches him, patient, not pushing but not breaking the silence, either. If Aaron wants to tell him about whatever is bothering him, he will. 

“I heard from Gordon’s executor,” Aaron finally mutters. “She got into contact with us about the will. He’s left everything to me and Liv.”

“Wait, really? Like the house?” It’s a nice house in a nice location; if sold, Robert reckons it’ll fetch a decent sum on the market.

Aaron nods. “It’s being auctioned off. Whatever it sells for will be split between me and Liv.” He hesitates. “And there’s a quarter of a million inheritance each, too.”

Robert raises his eyebrows. “Gordon had that much money?”

“Yeah. Insurance, mostly, but he had some savings and a few investments paid off for him.”

“Wow,” he says. “That’s…that must have been a lot to take in.”

Aaron shrugs. “Not really. I’m not accepting it.”

“What? Aaron -.”

“I don’t want anything from him.”

Robert frowns. “Don’t you think you’re owed it after everything he put you through?”

Aaron looks up, eyes narrowing slightly. “What, like I _earned_ it?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I – I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. But that’s how it feels, okay? The thought of taking his money, it makes me feel dirty. I want him gone for good. I don’t want his money. I don’t want _any_ reminder of him.”

He gets it. Of course he does. He might not be able to understand, not entirely; he has no idea what it must be like to have been through something like that. He’ll never be able to fully comprehend the magnitude of Aaron’s feelings about it. But he gets why Aaron’s so adamant about his decision, even if he, personally, wouldn’t make the same one.

“Aaron,” he says softly, insistently. “With that kind of money, you could set yourself up for life. Invest it, or buy yourself a property. You could have your own place, move out of the pub. You could expand the scrapyard. That kind of money…Aaron, it’s a gamechanger.”

Aaron sighs, scratching slightly at his eyebrow. “Don’t you think my family have already said all this?” he points out. “Robert, just leave it, yeah?”

“But -.”

“Liv isn’t taking it, either. We’re done with him and anything to do with him. I don’t need _anything_ from him.”

“After what he put you through, the least he can do is to -.”

“_Enough_.” Aaron slams his mug down on the table. Lukewarm tea sloshes over the rim, splashing a puddle across the table. “Drop it, Robert, alright? Just -.” He breaks off, inhaling shakily as he gets to his feet, shoving past the table.

Robert stares at him, surprised. “Aaron -.”

He’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Concern rockets through Robert and he’s following before he really thinks about it, skidding outside just in time to see Aaron stumble away, hand on his chest.

“Aaron?” Robert calls. “Aaron!” 

He stops, leaning against the wall, palms pressed against the stonework. He hunches his body, shoulders rocking as he tries to breathe, and when Robert approaches, he glances up, face pale. 

“Hey,” Robert murmurs. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t…I just…” Aaron turns slightly, thumping his hand against his chest. “It feels like I can’t breathe.”

“Okay. It’s alright. It’s gonna be okay.” Robert ignores his own pounding heart, resting his hands on Aaron’s shoulders. “Look at me. Breathe with me, okay?”

He holds Aaron’s gaze, ducking his head slightly so they’re eye-level. Deliberately breathing slow and deep, he flexes his fingers gently on Aaron’s shoulders, encouraging him to mimic him. It seems to take forever, but it’s probably only half a minute before Aaron manages to catch the rhythm, sucking in a proper breath. He sags forward and Robert holds on to him, keeping him upright with an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

“I’m not, though, am I? Because of _him_.”

The crack in his voice sends Robert’s concern spiking. He hasn’t seen this before. He’s seen Aaron when he’s scared and lost and alone; he’s seen him hurt himself and he’s seen him withdraw into himself. But he’s never seen him have a panic attack before. Swallowing, he ignores his own fear; he needs to focus on Aaron right now.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Talk to me.”

Aaron pulls away. There’s a little more colour in his face, but his eyes are damp and he runs a trembling hand underneath them as he gasps in a breath. “I thought it’d be over,” he chokes out. “That when the trial was done, I’d just feel relief. That I’d feel free.”

“You _are_ free, Aaron,” Robert promises. “He’s gone. He’s dead. He can never hurt you again.”

“But he _can_. Because he isn’t gone, not really. He’s still in my head. I still remember how his hands felt on me. I still remember the pain, the way I couldn’t sit down after – after he…I still remember the way he’d make sure I didn’t make a sound during. I still remember the sounds _he_ made.” Aaron looks away, hands curling into tight fists. “I still remember how I felt after. Dirty and ashamed and terrified. I still feel this rush of dread whenever someone brings fish and chips home. 

“I’m broken, Robert. I’m sick and I’m tapped in the head _because of him_. I can still hear his voice, all the time, constantly. In my head, telling me that I deserved it, telling me that I’m worthless. That no one will ever love me, not really. That everyone will leave me. That I’m _nothing_. He’s still in here,” he stabs a finger at his own temple. “He always will be. I can’t get him out and I just – I can’t take it anymore, Robert. I can’t.”

Robert reaches out, cupping his face. “Look at me,” he says lowly, urgently. “Aaron, look at me. That voice, what it says? It’s not true. It’s never been true and it never _will_ be. You are not worthless. You are not nothing. You’re – Aaron, you’re _everything_.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, quiet and raw.

“Have you spoken to anyone about this? Chas, Paddy, Adam?”

“I can’t. I can’t burden them with this.” 

“What about your councillor?”

Aaron looks down at his hands, slowly uncurling his fingers. His knuckles are strained white. Little half-moons are dug into the rough skin of his palms from his nails. “I haven’t seen her in months,” he admits.

“Alright,” Robert murmurs. “Alright. I’m always here for you, you know that. If you want to talk, I mean. But it might be good…I mean, someone who is qualified, it might help to talk to them?”

“Yeah.” Aaron runs his hand under his nose, sniffling slightly. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll call her.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Apart from throwing all of this on you,” he shoots back. “I just…the call about the will, and now today, my birthday and everything, it just sent me into a spin.”

“I get it. It’s okay, Aaron.”

He falls silent for a moment, just breathing, slow and deep. His cheeks and eyes are red, tears leaving raw streaks down his face. When he speaks up again, his voice is calmer, steadier.

“Mum thought you had him killed, you know. Liv overhead and was convinced you’d done it. The coppers had to come round. They said they knew for sure it was a suicide.”

Surprised anger flickers to life inside Robert, but he does his best to smother it. Still, it hurts, being accused of that, even from someone like Chas who has made no secret of what a lowlife piece of scum she thinks he is.

“Were you?” he asks quietly. “Convinced?”

Aaron’s throat clicks as he swallows. “For a moment…I almost believed it, yeah.” Aaron admits. “I’m sorry. I just. I know what you’d do for me.”

“Not that,” Robert insists. “Am I cut up about him being dead? No. Not in the slightest. If there’s a hell, I hope he’s suffering there. I almost wish I’d seen him die. But I wouldn’t _kill_ him. Because of you, Aaron. Because that would be taking control over the situation away from you. Because doing that…it would have broken us for good.”

He pauses, then adds, “Besides, everyone knows the grief sick bastards like him get in prison. No matter what protection they’re obligated to give him, I knew his life would be hell in there. I was happy knowing he’d suffer behind bars.”

Aaron looks up, meeting his gaze. “I still don’t know how I feel,” he murmurs. “About him being dead.”

“I get it. It’s complicated. There’s nothing wrong with that, Aaron. Just…don’t beat yourself up over it. You deserve to be happy, alright? You deserve to have a birthday without thinking about him.” 

“Bit late for that now, isn’t it?” Aaron mutters. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his puffer vest. “Listen, thanks, but I should – I should go. I’ve got work.”

“At the scrapyard?” Robert asks, surprised. “Don’t you think you should take the day off?”

“Why? ‘Cause it’s my birthday?”

“Well, that, yeah. And because lugging about scrap metal in five inches of snow doesn’t exactly sound like my idea of fun.”

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “Which is why I’ll be in the office with the heater on, working on paperwork. I’ll be fine, Robert. Some alone time would be good.”

“Does Chas know you’re working today?”

“What, and have her come up there with a dozen flasks of tea to baby me?” Aaron pulls a face. “Nah, you’re alright, ta. I said I’d be out today, that’s all.”

“Alright. Just…” Robert hesitates. “Just take it easy, alright?”

He meets Robert’s gaze. He knows exactly what Robert is really asking and he nods once. Giving Robert’s elbow a brief, friendly touch, he turns away, sludging through the snow towards his car. 

***

When he gets back to Vic’s, he’s surprised to find Diane, Doug and Andy there. He hangs up his jacket and tucks his snowy boots away so he won’t track muck across the carpet.

“What’s up?” he asks, rubbing his cold hands together to warm them up.

“Victoria told us about your new business, pet,” Diane explains, smiling. “We’re so proud.”

“Oh. Uh, cheers. I only launched the website today. Could crash and burn, still.”

“What’s this?” Andy says, raising his eyebrows. “Are you being humble? Doesn’t suit you, mate.”

Robert snorts, shaking his head. Vic grins, leaning up as she gives him a quick hug, then disappears into the kitchen. She returns with some glasses and a bottle of fizz, which she hands over to Robert to safely open. He pops the cork with practised ease and pours champagne into each glass.

“We got you a little something,” Diane says. 

“You really didn’t have to.”

“Of course we did,” Vic replies. “I chose it, by the way. Don’t let them take credit.”

He huffs a laugh and accepts the present Diane hands him. Peeling off the paper, he finds a plain box inside, and he flips the lid off. It’s a new wallet, tasteful Italian leather, black and sleek, with the initials R.J.S embossed in subtle silver in one corner. It’s bulky, not properly closed due to something inside, so he opens it, revealing a stack of cards tucked into one of the pockets. He pulls one out; they’re business cards, simple and effective, for his consultancy.

“This is brilliant,” he says. “Thanks.”

Vic grins, chuffed that he likes her choice. They sit in the living room; there isn’t enough seating, so Robert perches on the coffee table, but he doesn’t mind. They haven’t spent time together, all of them, like this in so long. Diane’s previous attempts at getting them all together only ended in disaster, but, for once, it’s not too awkward. It isn’t entirely comfortable, either, and there’s lingering tension in the air, but Robert knows it’ll take time. For now, the fact that they can all be in the same room and civil is more progress than he ever expected.

Diane and Doug are the first to go, followed by Andy. He hesitates by the door, turning to look at Robert. After a second, he sticks his hand out.

“I am proud of you, mate,” Andy says. “Really.”

Robert swallows and shakes his hand. “Thanks.”

Once he’s gone, Robert ducks his head into the kitchen, where Vic is busy making herself a cup of tea. She looks up, catching his gaze, and offers a smile.

“Thanks, Vic,” he says. “That meant a lot.”

“You’re working hard,” she replies. “I see it. We all do. You deserve it, Rob.”

It’s surprising how much her words mean to him. It soothes the still-raw hurt in his chest, that silent, constant need for validation and approval. For once, he’s achieved it through positive means, and he feels good about it. 

“Listen,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “I want to tell you something.”

She pauses, eyeing him. “What did you do?”

“Oh, cheers,” he laughs. “I haven’t _done_ anything. Except make an incredibly wise investment that’s paid off.”

“You’re kidding,” she says, turning to face him. “How much?”

“Enough for a deposit for my own place,” he replies. “And enough left over to invest in, say, a food van business.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re kidding. You _are_ kidding, right?”

“I’m completely serious.”

“Robert, that’s…” she shakes her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering. You deserve it, Vic.”

“But mixing family and business, it’s never a good idea,” she points out. “What if the business fails? What if you lose your money?”

“Then I lose some money,” he replies, shrugging. “But you won’t fail. I believe in you. Look, I won’t be involved, if that’s what you’re worried about. The business, that’s all yours. I just want to help you start it up.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, brows pulling together as she thinks it over. He’d expected her to be uncertain and for good reason, but he _is_ serious about this, so he stays silent, patiently waiting as she considers.

“Can I just…can I have some proper time to think about it?” She finally asks. “It’s a big deal, Robert.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” he replies. “Take as long as you need, I’m not gonna change my mind.”

She nods. “Thanks, Rob. Really.”

***

He spends the afternoon looking for properties.

The only place in Emmerdale is the Mill, which is up for auction soon, but the cost of buying it and then all of the work that would need to be done on it isn’t worth it, even if he _had_ that kind of money. In such a small village, there’s nowhere else available to rent or buy, which is frustrating.

He looks at Hotten, where there’s a couple of places listed; a narrow, grimy one-bedroom terraced house on the outskirts and a studio flat above a kebab shop on the high street. Neither are really his kind of thing. There are more options further afield, on the other side of Hotten, that are both decent and affordable. It isn’t far into town for when he has business there and the commute to Emmerdale isn’t the worst, but he doesn’t pursue them all the same. He wants to stay as close to Emmerdale as possible; somehow, it’s become his home again, somewhere he _wants_ to be. 

There’s a few properties in Little Wickmarsh, a little area about six miles out from Emmerdale; the same village where he took Aaron to see the Christmas lights. A maisonette in a renovated cottage, a converted barn, and a bungalow. The maisonette isn’t too bad, if a little outdated and chintzy for his taste, and the barn is modern and tasteful, if expensive. He jots down the estate agent details for both and refreshes the webpage and filters.

It’s then that a new place shows up at the top of the listings. Clicking on it, he’s surprised to see how close it is to Emmerdale; it’s in a rural hamlet called Kinbrook, about a mile and a half out from the village, past the woods and quarry and out in the sticks, nestled between two sloping hills and surrounded by fields. 

Robert’s driven past it plenty of times before, seen a glimpse of a cluster of buildings tucked away. There are only sixteen of them in the hamlet, lining both sides of an unnamed road that’s little more than a muddy track worn into the earth; most of them are old farm houses, the residences of the owners of the fields surrounding the hamlet, but there are a few newer, modern builds, housing some pretty well-off people. 

The property listed is an old stone horses stables that’s been sold off and renovated into a residential house. It’s small but modern, and an unusual design; where it’s on a hill, half the house is one-story, the other half two, with a sloping roof connecting both portions. The deposit isn’t too harsh, but the monthly rent is expensive. But it’s ideal, close to the village and to Hotten, and it’s the mix of old and new that Robert likes. He scribbles down the estate agent’s number.

Adam brings fish and chips back for dinner. He even resists making a dig about providing food for Robert, clearly making an effort since Aaron’s mates with him now. They sit around the table and Adam and Victoria bicker-flirt, laughing when she tosses a chip at him and he catches it in his mouth. Robert stays quiet, mostly poking at his piece of battered fish. It makes him think of Aaron, about what he said earlier, and it makes the food seem tasteless, just bland mush in his mouth that he has to force down his throat. 

“You two are going out tonight, aren’t ya?” Vic says, scrunching up the grease-soaked paper to chuck out. “Give Aaron a hug from me. I have to work.”

“Actually, uh, I’m not going,” Robert replies. “I have work to do.”

Adam shrugs. “Alright.”

Robert stands, helping Vic to clear up. He makes coffee and settles in at the table with his laptop. Vic leaves first for her shift and Adam gets ready to head over shortly afterwards to grab a few at the Woolpack before heading to town. 

“Give this to Aaron, will you?” Robert asks, holding out an envelope. 

There’s three tickets to banger car racing inside; one for Aaron, one for Adam, and one for whoever else Aaron wants to invite: Liv, if it’s her kind of thing, or Paddy. Adam takes it, nodding as he tucks it into his pocket. 

Once he’s alone, Robert sits back, sighing. He feels a little bad for backing out, but he can’t bring himself to go. Partly because clubbing with Charity, Shane and Adam really _isn’t_ his idea of fun, but mostly because he needs to be careful. He promised Aaron he wouldn’t push, so he needs to make sure he doesn’t let that line between friends and more-than-friends blur.

He does manage to get some work done, which is probably a good thing, even if it doesn’t provide as much of a distraction as he’d hoped. Vic gets back close to midnight, looking completely knackered. She stays up long enough to gulp down some tea and run an affectionate hand over his hair before she goes to bed.

Surprisingly, Adam clatters through the front door at just gone one. He’s clearly tipsy, but he hasn’t had enough booze to be properly drunk, and he stumbles slightly in the hallway when he tries to balance on one foot to remove his shoes.

“You’re back early,” Robert remarks.

“Yeah, well, Aaron pulled, didn’t he? Left us to it, but Charity and Shane, nah. I got a taxi back.” Adam pauses, face scrunching slightly. “Ah…was that insensitive? Sorry.”

He swallows, looking away. It’s startling how much it hurts, how much the thought of Aaron going home with some other bloke absolutely crushes him. His belly feels like it’s in knots, a hole splitting open in his chest. It bothers him, a lot, more than it should, and the frustrating thing is that there’s nothing he can do about it.

“No,” he finally replies. “He’s single. He can do what he wants.”

***

The next morning, he’s out of the house by seven.

He hadn’t slept well and he feels tired to the point of weariness, but he has a full day ahead. It’s a good kind of busyness, though, the kind he craves and relishes. It’s snowing a little, little flakes that barely settle on the slush already coating the ground, but the grey clouds filling the sky promise more later. 

Zipping his jacket up to his throat as he walks, he glances across the road at the Woolpack just in time to see a taxi crawl to a stop in front of it. Aaron climbs out, bleary-eyed and exhausted looking. He doesn’t see Robert as he hands the driver some money and makes his way into the pub, a noticeable limp in his step.

That gut-punch feeling is back. Robert stares silently at the building, breathing frozen air into his lungs, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Eventually, he turns and walks away.

***

Robert doesn’t see Aaron for nearly a fortnight.

He’s not avoiding him, not exactly; in a place as small as Emmerdale, it’s impossible to stay out of someone’s way for long. The place is a pressure cooker at the best of times, waiting for the various rivalries, fights and secrets to explode. Considering he lives at the local pub where Robert’s sister works, avoiding Aaron is even more difficult than keeping away from most other villagers.

But he needs some time. He’d meant it when he said he could just be friends with Aaron and he’d meant it when he said that it was enough. Having Aaron in his life in any capacity is better than not having him in his life at all. But it hurts, knowing that Aaron has moved on, that he’s hooking up with blokes on nights out. He needs time and space to process it.

Thankfully, he’s not exactly at a shortage of distractions. Like Aaron, he’s getting on with his own life, if not romantically or sexually just yet. He succeeds in bringing together his various enterprises, including his consultancy, under one consolidation, which makes life easier. Seeing it all laid out there, the scrapyard, the haulage company, a local tutoring business, a hotel and restaurant in Hotten, and his own consultancy, it feels good. Hopefully soon, once Vic has come to a decision, her food van business will be added to his portfolio. It keeps him busy, juggling meetings, check-ins and reports, and handling his own clients, but it’s a good kind of busy, the kind he’s always sought out in life. The best part is that it’s _his_, that all of it is down to his own hard work, experience and sharpness; it’s something he can truly be proud of, and it’s something that no one can take away from him. 

When he’s not working, he spends time with his family. The first couple of gatherings are awkward and stilted, the bleak history between him and Andy staining the atmosphere with bitterness, but it gets easier. Vic and Diane help a lot, with their cheerful, no-nonsense way of tackling things and their insistence on everyone getting along, and Bernice is great, gently and sweetly supportive of Andy but also firm when she deems it necessary. During the fourth meal, Robert makes a teasing joke towards Vic and Andy laughs, looking just as surprised by it as Robert feels. It’s easier after that, the worse hopefully behind them.

He contacts the estate agents for the converted stables and arranges a viewing. Deep down, he’s not entirely sure if going for it is the right idea. Ostensibly, the place is perfect for him, and probably the best property he’s going to find so close to the village. He has the money now to move out of Vic’s; he can’t keep dossing about at her place, especially with Adam’s obvious impatience with Robert’s near-constant presence in the evenings. But it doesn’t quite feel _right_, not like living directly in the village feels.

Snow seems to linger in Emmerdale for the whole two weeks, the bitter cold clinging to the village. Finally, though, it starts to thaw, the temperatures rising just enough to start to melt the sludge and ice on the roads. On a Saturday morning with no plans for the day, Robert decides to swing by the scrapyard. He knows Aaron and Adam haven’t been able to do as much work as they’d usually prefer thanks to the shitty weather conditions, so he needs to check the books and see how they can handle the lower profit until things are back to normal.

The place is empty when Robert arrives, so he fishes his own set of his keys out of his pocket to unlock the portacabin. Peeling off his gloves, he tosses them onto Aaron’s desk and flicks the switch on the heater, relieved when hot air spills out, thawing the stagnant cold. He checks Adam’s desk first, gathering the bits of paperwork that have been left haphazardly lying about, and then moves to Aaron’s, dropping down into the swivel chair behind it.

Rattling open one of the drawers in the filing cabinet, he finds and pulls out the weekly report, flipping it open. For a while, he works in silence, checking the paperwork against the report and signing off on it. Eventually, though, he has to consult their November report to check on a follow-up, which means rummaging around inside Aaron’s desk drawers.

Like usual, it’s a mess, everything shoved in or discarded carelessly. Frowning, Robert pushes aside a half-empty tube of biscuits, a well-read _NME_ magazine and a few pens that have run out of ink, pausing when foil crackles under his fingertips. He pulls out the packet of chewing gum, looking at it. 

_Peppermint_, he thinks. _Aaron’s favourite_.

He starts to put it back, but stops. There’s a feeling in his gut, something buzzing insistently at the back of his skull. Glancing towards the door, he peels back the foil with his thumbnail. A stale square of gum drops onto the desk with a rattle, followed by another, but then – nothing. Except for the crinkle of plastic.

Ripping open the packet the rest of the way, Robert stares as a small, rolled up clear baggie drops out onto his palm. The substance inside looks like potpourri; he breaks the seal with his thumbnail, dipping a fingertip inside. It isn’t sticky and it doesn’t have any buds. Robert isn’t naïve and he isn’t an idiot. He knows exactly what it is.

It’s spice.

Brushing his finger clean, he snaps the baggie shut again, slapping it down onto the desk. Yanking the drawer out further, he digs around inside. He finds three more packets of chewing gum, all of them concealing a tiny bag of spice. Lining them up on the desk, all he can do is stare at them, disappointment and anger warring with disgust in his belly. 

He hadn’t seen it. He’d suspected, but he hadn’t _seen_ it. He has no clue what Aaron is playing at. He’s better than this. He’s _smarter_ than this. After everything he’s been through, after all the progress he’s made since Robert has known him, and now he’s got spice stashed in his drawers. 

Getting to his feet, he paces the narrow cabin, raking his fingers through his hair. He knows exactly who is behind it; he’d seen Shane deposit one packet into Aaron’s pocket. But he doesn’t get why Aaron is going along with it, why he’d do something so stupid and reckless. Unless he owes Shane. Unless Shane’s got something on him.

He hears the crunch of tyres through the snowy sludge outside, followed by the slam of a door and the soggy thud of booted footsteps. Robert casts a glance through the window. It’s Aaron’s car parked outside.

The second the door to the portacabin shuts behind Aaron, Robert has him by the collar of his hoodie, pushing him up against it. He struggles for a split second before he realises who it is, and then he just grabs on to Robert’s elbows, scowling at him.

“Oi!” he snaps. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“What am _I_ playing at?” Robert bites out. “I just had a look in your drawer.”

Aaron’s frown darkens. “You were snooping in my desk?”

“I was looking for paperwork,” he seethes. He won’t let Aaron turn this around on him; he’s not the one in the wrong here. “I found your spice.”

He doesn’t even blink. “What spice?”

Robert scoffs. “Oh, come off it.”

“I’m serious,” Aaron replies, shrugging awkwardly from his pinned position. “Whatever you found, it ain’t mine.”

“Yeah?” He snaps, releasing Aaron’s hoodie. “Then maybe I should go and have a chat with Adam, ask him what he thinks he’s doing bringing drugs into work.”

Aaron’s head thuds back against the door as he sighs. He closes his eyes. “Okay, fine. It’s mine.”

Robert shakes his head. “Are you for real?” he demands. “You’re doing spice? What the _hell_ are you thinking?”

“I’m not _doing_ anything,” Aaron fires back. “I wouldn’t.”

Robert stares at him. “So, what, you’re dealing? How is that _better_?”

“What? No!”

He scoffs. “You don’t just keep bags of spice lying around for fun, Aaron,” he points out coolly. “Either you’re doing it or you’re selling it. So, which is it?”

Aaron’s jaw clenches. He looks away as he admits, “I’m not dealing it or taking it, okay? I’m just hanging on to it for a mate. It’ll be gone by next week, I swear.”

“Shane,” Robert says, and Aaron shrugs. “For god’s sake, Aaron! Why the hell would you hold on to drugs for him?”

“Just drop it, Robert. This has nothing to do with you.”

“It does when it interferes with the scrapyard I invested in. What are you _thinking_?”

Aaron steps forward, gaze lit up. “I said _drop_ it, yeah? Just do one.”

He turns before Robert can reply, yanking open the door with enough force that it slams into the wall, rebounding shut behind Aaron. For a moment, he just stands there, incredulous, nerves lit up and adrenaline roaring through him. It’s obvious that Aaron is done with their argument, that he doesn’t want to be followed. 

So, naturally, Robert follows anyway.

He catches up to Aaron as he’s wrestling his car key into the lock. At the sound of Robert’s footsteps, he turns, cheeks stained ruddy with his anger, and he opens his mouth to throw vitriol at him, but he doesn’t get the chance; Robert cups his face and dips down, kissing him hard.

Aaron reacts instantly, hands lifting to clutch at Robert’s biceps, fingers digging into the material of his jacket. He presses closer, opening his mouth to Robert’s tongue, kissing him back just as desperately, pouring his own wildfire into it. The cabin is just a few feet behind them, where it’s warm and there’s surfaces and chairs to use, but Robert doesn’t have the patience to guide Aaron back there; instead, he fumbles behind Aaron, twisting the key to unlock the car. He gets a grip on the handle to the back door, pulling it open as he wraps his other arm around Aaron’s waist, pulling him into his body and away from the car.

Aaron grunts into his mouth, pulling away to catch his breath. Robert doesn’t pause, just drags his mouth lower, biting a path down Aaron’s jaw and neck, shuddering at the familiar, intoxicating scratch of stubble against his lips and flesh. Aaron tips his head back, staggering back a step until he can fold into the back seat of the car, yanking Robert in with him. 

Gathering his wits enough to shut the door behind them, Robert shifts until they can both fit somewhat comfortably, if awkwardly, across the back seat. Yanking down the zip on Aaron’s hoodie, he shoves the material open so he can access more of his throat, one hand sliding down his belly to tackle the button and zipper on his jeans. He knows this is going to be quick, as desperate as their first time in the garage; he already feels lit up on fire with his desire, burning up with his craving for Aaron. 

Aaron’s breathless, making quick work of Robert’s belt and jeans, until they both manage to push their trousers down with their boxers. They’re both already hard and the first rub of their cocks together pushes a quiet, wrecked sound out of Aaron’s throat.

He’s often almost soundless during sex, as quiet and stoic as he is the rest of the time, but Robert knows which buttons to push, knows exactly how to touch him, how to kiss him, how to fuck him, to get him to let go properly. He knows how to wrench those desperate, gorgeous noises out of Aaron, how to get him to moan and gasp and beg; he’s devoted plenty of time and practise to it, after all. 

Drifting a hand over both their cocks, Robert gathers their precome on his thumb, then glides down, using it to slick the way as he starts to stroke them. Aaron’s breath hitches and he rolls his hips up, fingertips biting into Robert’s shoulders as they thrust against each other’s bellies, seeking the friction of Robert’s hand. He moves quicker, twisting slightly on the upstroke, and grins breathlessly as Aaron grunts, eyes squeezing shut.

“Like that?” he murmurs, voice hoarse, as he nips at Aaron’s jaw.

Aaron leans up, catching Robert’s lower lip between his teeth. He tugs sharply, just on the border of causing pain. “More,” he mumbles into his mouth. 

Robert snaps his hips, working his hand faster. Heat prickles across his skin, sweat sticking to his flesh, and their legs are tangled together awkwardly, Aaron’s shoulders hunched uncomfortably against the car door. Their heads knock together as they move and Robert’s wrist is aching from the angle, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, desperately, breathlessly chasing the burn of pleasure, the promise crackling and searing at the base of his spine.

This is the only time he has any real control over Aaron, the only time that Aaron is completely, beautifully predictable. This is the only time that he can catch hold of the force of nature that is Aaron Dingle and hold on.

He’s still a whirlwind of energy and passion, but here, he likes it when Robert takes control, likes it when he holds his wrists above his head and kisses him silent. Outside of the bedroom, Aaron, even when he’s out of control, is, remarkably, always _in_ control, especially with Robert who, admittedly, is weak when it comes to the other man. He’d crawl naked on his belly over broken glass for Aaron.

But here, Aaron happily gives up that control. He hands it to Robert like a fucking gift, like it’s as easy to him as breathing. He’ll fuck Robert senseless, tasting the cries spilling from his mouth, or he’ll get on his knees and let Robert fuck his throat like they both crave, and he looks so beautiful, so blissfully full of pleasure doing it that Robert will never be the same. Nothing else, _no one_ else, could ever compare to Aaron.

Sweat pools in the hollow of Aaron’s throat. Robert ducks his head, teasing his tongue along Aaron’s collarbone before dipping lower, tasting the salt on his skin. Aaron throws his head back with a gasp, neck and back arched, the tendon in his throat strained taut, and Robert can’t resist it. He kisses his way up, then bites, scraping his teeth gently over the tendon as he presses his thumb right underneath the head of Aaron’s cock.

He comes with a “_yes_” hissing between his teeth, spilling hot over Robert’s hand and between their stomachs. Robert snaps his hips once, twice, three times more before he follows, adding to the mess between them, a moan catching in his throat. 

Aaron practically melts, slumping as he tries to catch his breath. Robert collapses on top of him, uncaring of the sticky, cooling come smearing between them as he tucks his face into Aaron’s throat, just holding on to him as he comes down.

One arm winds around Robert’s shoulder as Aaron slowly traces his fingertips up and down Robert’s spine with his other hand. He scoots slightly to get more comfortable, pressing a damp kiss to Robert’s forehead.

“I got ya,” he murmurs. “You alright?”

Robert kisses the blossoming bruise on Aaron’s throat, still panting slightly. He doesn’t understand how Aaron does this to him. Sloppy handjobs and rutting in the back of the car, yet it’s still infinitely better than any sex he’s had with anyone else, still leaves him feeling raw and wanted and happier than he’s ever felt after a shag in the past. Only Aaron does this to him. It used to scare him, but not anymore. 

“Rob?” Aaron asks, a touch of concern threading into his voice. 

“I’m good.” He pushes up onto one elbow so he can meet Aaron’s gaze. He grins. “Actually, I’m _great_.”

Aaron’s eyes are sparkling, his own smile relaxed and fond. “You’re a sap,” he accuses. He reaches up to stroke Robert’s sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. “I thought we were arguing.”

“We were. But,” Robert ducks down to kiss him, slow and sweet. “You drive me crazy, you know that? In every possible way.”

“Could say the same about you,” Aaron replies. He shifts slightly, then pulls a face. “This is getting disgusting now. We should clean up.”

Robert hums, kissing him again. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “I’m pretty happy where I am, actually.”

The sudden, sharp rap of knuckles on the steamed up window cuts off any reply Aaron might have made. Startled, Robert jumps slightly, pushing up more to squint through the glass. Adam’s outside, gaze very carefully focused on the ground, away from them. 

“Alright, lads,” he says, a smirk in his voice. “We’ve got a customer coming up in about twenty minutes, so you might want to, you know. Not be like this when they get here.”

Robert laughs, pressing his forehead gently against Aaron’s. He’s grinning, unashamed, and he gives a gentle pat to Robert’s hip.

“Come on,” he mutters. “Duty calls.”

“We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

“I mean it,” Robert adds, a little more insistently. “We’ll talk. About us. About the spice.”

Aaron drops his head back again with a sigh, but he doesn’t look annoyed, just resigned.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’ll talk.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: explicit sexual content.

Luckily, Vic’s place is empty when Robert gets back, so he doesn’t need to worry about her catching sight of the stains on his shirt. Peeling it off, he shoves it straight into the wash, then heads upstairs for a quick shower.

Once he’s dressed and the shirt is safely in the dryer, he makes tea and settles on the couch. Only then does he let himself smile. 

He isn’t happy about the spice. Knowing that Aaron is potentially caught up in something risky makes him anxious, especially when someone like Shane McCormac is involved. But even worrying about the drugs does little to stop the warm thrill in his gut, the hope he can’t keep from blossoming in his chest. 

He knows better than to get too ahead of himself. He has no idea where Aaron’s head is at, whether he’ll have changed his mind by the time Robert next sees him; for all he knows, Aaron already regrets what happened. He supposes he probably deserves the irony. After the way he treated Aaron during the affair, after he kept going to him for sex and rejecting him after, maybe he’s due a little payback. But the way he feels about Aaron hasn’t changed at all. He still loves him. And if there’s any chance whatsoever that Aaron might feel the same, then he can’t deny that he’s determined to chase it.

He spends half the afternoon distracting himself with work, and the other half thinking over what he’s going to say to Aaron. At six, he shovels a quick dinner down his throat and then grabs his jacket, heading out. The pub isn’t too busy when he steps inside, but he knows that will change shortly when people start drifting in to order some dinner or have a quick pint. Aaron’s nowhere in sight, so Robert leans against the bar.

Chas isn’t behind the bar, but Charity is. She lifts a pint glass in silent question and he nods, fishing the right amount of change out of his pocket. Vic emerges from the back, grabbing something from behind the bar, but she pauses when she spots Robert.

“Oh, hiya,” she says. “I didn’t know you were popping in tonight.”

Robert shrugs. “Fancied a pint,” he replies. “Is, uh. Is Aaron about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Can’t get him out from under our feet,” she complains. “He’s been right cheerful all afternoon. He even smiled and everything.”

“He has?” Robert asks, unable to help his own smile. 

“Yeah. It’s unsettling, actually.” She shakes her head, distracted as she pours herself a glass of water. “If you ask me, I reckon he got laid.”

Robert’s smile widens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah -.” She stops suddenly, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “Oh. So, I’m guessing you have something to do with that ugly thing on his neck?”

“Maybe.”

“Eugh! Robert!” Her face scrunches up in disgust. “It looks like he’s been mauled by some animal!”

He shrugs, unrepentant. “Things got heated,” he says mildly.

“No, no, stop. I do _not_ need to hear about my brother’s sex life.” 

“Uh, how do you think I feel when I walk in on you and Adam in the bathroom?” he points out. “I’d say we’re even.”

“Right. Point taken. Let’s stop there, shall we?” Vic shakes her head and gulps down her water. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. I’ll let Aaron know you’re about.” 

“Thanks, Vic.”

She starts to turn, but then pauses, glancing back at him. “It’s good to see you smile, Rob.”

“Cheers. It feels good to smile.” 

Once she’s gone, Robert takes a drink from his pint. He wonders, briefly, if maybe he shouldn’t have told Vic, but he reckons that fair’s fair, considering Adam knows, albeit unintentionally on Aaron’s part. But it feels good to have this bubble of good, even if it’s not going to last. 

Aaron appears from the back ten minutes later. He rounds the bar but hovers near the end of it, so Robert approaches him.

“Alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, nodding slightly. “Sorry. I was just eating my tea.”

“It’s fine. I’m sort of used to waiting.” Robert jokes. He leans in towards him, reaching out his hand to rest on Aaron’s hip.

He twitches back, gaze sliding to the floor. Robert’s heart sinks into his gut, disappointment cutting through his ribs.

“Really?” He sighs.

Aaron frowns. He gives a jerky nod towards the back, then ducks through without looking back. Robert drains the rest of his pint before he follows, irritation crawling through him. Once they’re alone in the relative privacy of the back room, Robert shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“So,” he says. “I’m guessing this is where we avoid looking at each other and pretend nothing happened?”

Aaron’s frown deepens. “You what?”

“Back there.” Robert nods to the closed door with his chin. “Is it my turn to be the dirty little secret?”

His expression hardens. “I didn’t kiss ya,” he says slowly. “’Cause I didn’t want to deal with the hassle from everyone else before we had a chance to talk and figure out between us what this is.”

“And what is this to you?” Robert asks, resigned. “A quickie in the backseat, nothing more?”

Aaron shakes his head. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Right,” he mutters. “Come on.”

“What?”

He doesn’t answer, just grabs Robert’s elbow, tugging him back out of the room. Wordlessly, Robert follows him, curious and wary, as they return to the pub. To his surprise, Aaron leans back against the bar, right in the centre where they’re in full view of everybody else in the room. 

Then, he reaches out, wraps his fingers around Robert’s collar, and pulls him into a kiss. It’s quick, barely a chaste press of their lips together, but it’s firm and undeniable. Robert knows Aaron isn’t really big on PDA so he doesn’t chase his mouth when the other man pulls back, even though he’s incredibly tempted. When Aaron lets go, he holds Robert’s gaze for a second before he turns, flagging down Charity.

“Two pints,” he says casually.

Charity looks between them, eyebrows raised. “Soooo,” she draws out the word. “I take it you two are back together, then?” When Aaron just looks at her flatly, she lifts her hands in surrender and leaves it be as she turns away to pour their drinks. “I’ll just sort those pints, then, shall I?”

Something warm and happy unfurls in Robert’s chest. Grinning, he leans his hands on the bar on either side of Aaron, trapping him between his arms. Drawing close, he lets his lips ghost over the shell of Aaron’s ear.

“It’s not quite as fun as bending you over the bar in front of everyone,” he murmurs, soft as anything. “But I’ll take it.”

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “In front of my family? No thanks.”

“Family,” Robert repeats, glancing at Charity. “What even is she to you, exactly? Second cousin once removed? Twice removed?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t got a clue. I stopped trying to work it all out years ago. When I was a little kid, I thought she was my aunt.” 

Charity overhears the last part as she sets two pints down in front of them. “Aw,” she says. “That’s sweet. I’ve always thought of you as the nephew I never had and never wanted.”

“Nice,” Aaron remarks. He glances at Robert. “Let’s go get some privacy, yeah?”

“Oi, what about your drinks?” Charity protests.

Aaron shrugs, slapping a crumpled ten pound note onto the bar. “I’m sure someone will enjoy ‘em.” 

She shakes her head but takes the money. Robert isn’t too concerned about missing out on his pint, not when Aaron looks at him, a familiar gleam in his eyes. He trails behind him out to the back room, but Aaron doesn’t pause, instead climbing the stairs. Grinning, Robert follows.

It feels like forever since he was last in Aaron’s bedroom. It hasn’t changed at all; it’s still a peculiar mix of scruffy – the bed unmade, the laundry basket close to spilling over – and weirdly neat; shower gel, deodorant and cologne neatly lined up on top of the chest of drawers, clean laundry folded perfectly on top of the chair ready to be put away. Aaron’s always been weirdly tidy about some things, preferring things to not be a mess and for everything to be in its place, even if, ostensibly, that place is amongst total chaos. Robert’s sure he’ll never get his head round Aaron’s system, or what makes some things okay to be messy and other things not. 

The curtains are already shut. Aaron doesn’t bother with the light as he shuts the door and presses Robert against it, kissing him. But Robert wants, _needs_ to see Aaron, so he fumbles blindly at the wall until he can snap his thumb against the switch. Light floods the room and Aaron blinks, then grins as he ducks in for another kiss, slow and full of promise.

Robert unzips Aaron’s hoodie, shoving it off his shoulders, and then starts to tug impatiently at his shirt, pulling it up. They only break apart at the last second, long enough for Aaron’s shirt to hit the floor, before Robert’s kissing him again. He kicks the discarded clothes aside and Aaron smiles against his mouth.

Cupping Aaron’s jaw, Robert tilts his head so he can kiss him deeper, slick and thorough, savouring the scrape of beard against his skin and the way Aaron opens to him, tongue pressing against his own. He feels hands on his jacket and obligingly pulls away to slip it off, tossing his shirt aside with it. Aaron curls his fingers in the loop of Robert’s jeans and starts to walk backwards, tugging Robert with him, insistent mouth pressing hot, damp kisses along Robert’s jaw.

They tumble onto the bed together, springs creaking slightly, and Robert remembers this, remembers the way it reminded him of being a teenager, the room filled with breathless laughter and whispers as they tried to keep quiet, the risk of being caught adding to the thrill of the dirty squeak of bed springs and sweat-slick kiss of flesh. But it’s different this time. The only risk now is the embarrassment of being caught and teased mercilessly.

“Who’s home?” Robert murmurs, licking at Aaron’s kiss-swollen lower lip.

“No one,” he replies breathlessly. “Charity will be downstairs all evening.” He pauses. “Better lock the door, though. Just in case.”

Reluctantly, Robert pulls away, lips lingering on Aaron’s skin until the last second. He flicks the bolt on the door shut and removes his boots and socks, grinning when Aaron leans over to his nightstand, fiddling with his fancy music speaker. A second later, music fills the room, some indie rock song that Robert doesn’t recognise. 

“There,” Aaron says, a smirk playing on his mouth. “Now no one will bother us. Trust me.”

Robert laughs, crawling back onto the bed and over Aaron’s body. “Just imagine,” he murmurs, kissing him. “Just how loud we could be if you didn’t live with ya mum.”

“Says the bloke living with his sister,” Aaron replies without missing a beat, grinning as he unbuttons and unzips Robert’s jeans with quick, practised ease. “You gonna get your kit off, or what?”

“I’ve missed your romance,” he snarks, pushing his jeans and boxers down. He kicks them off and to the floor. 

“I’ve missed your mouth,” Aaron shoots back.

Robert grins, raising his eyebrows. “Is that right?” 

He strips Aaron of his jeans and underwear, tossing them to the carpet. They’re both already hard, which isn’t exactly a surprise; Aaron just has to look at Robert with that smirk on his face and a promise in his gaze, and he’s aching in his jeans. Robert scoots down the bed, smoothing his palms up Aaron’s thighs as he kisses down his stomach, pausing when he reaches the silver scars splicing across his taut belly. He kisses one, soft, gentle, and Aaron shivers underneath him, a shaky exhale escaping his mouth.

He takes his time; as desperate as he is for Aaron, it’s been too long since he last got to really explore his body, since he last got to kiss and touch and tease. He runs his tongue along the sharp cut of his hip, feels his firm abdominal muscles flex under his palms at each ticklish flick of his tongue, runs his nose along the trail of hair underneath his navel. Scraping his fingernails up Aaron’s thighs, he feels the way his muscles tighten, hips twitching slightly in anticipation, and he smiles, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right at the base of his cock.

“Robert,” Aaron mutters, impatient.

Robert hums. “I’ve missed this,” he admits breathlessly. “I’ve missed _you._”

“Yeah,” he replies, quietly. “Me too. I mean, not me, but. You know?”

“I know,” he assures him. He always knows what Aaron means, even when he can’t find the words to express himself.

Stroking Aaron slowly, he looks up, watching the way Aaron tips his head back, eyes closing as he sighs. Smiling, Robert leans in, resting his tongue against the head of his cock, tasting the saltiness of his precome, feeling the heaviness against his mouth. Aaron grunts quietly, hips flexing, and Robert takes him into his mouth properly, closing his eyes.

He’s learned through plenty of practise exactly how Aaron likes it, what gets him off the hardest and makes him feel so good he shakes, but he never gets enough of it, never gets enough of Aaron. He doubts he ever will. He works his hand and mouth in tandem, moaning quietly, and Aaron curses under his breath, fingers twisting in the sheets. 

When he starts to gasp, Robert reluctantly pulls off with a lewd ‘_pop_’. Sliding back up Aaron’s body, he kisses him, resting his hand gently on his throat. He presses his thumb against the bruise on his neck and is rewarded by a full-body twitch, Aaron rubbing impatiently against his hip as he shudders.

“You got anything?” Robert murmurs.

Aaron nods, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. Robert leans over, tugging open the drawer in Aaron’s nightstand; he rummages around until he finds the bottle of lube and box of condoms. He grabs one and shuts the drawer again. Sitting back so he’s straddling Aaron, Robert holds out the condom.

Aaron snags it carefully between his teeth, the foil crinkling as he tears it open, gaze locked on Robert’s, and it stokes at the hot, aching need in Robert’s belly, sends a pulse of anticipation sliding down his spine. He sets the condom aside and chucks the foil packet to the floor to deal with later, then scoots back, snapping open the lid on the bottle of lube. He pours some into his hand, letting his body temperature warm it up before he slicks up his fingers. Aaron wriggles around, grabbing a pillow to shove under his hips, and brings his legs up and apart, adjusting himself so Robert can slot between his knees.

When he’s preparing Robert, Aaron always likes to take his time, driving him crazy before he finally enters him. But with himself, Aaron’s always quick and perfunctory; it had taken some time and trust before he’d let Robert do it, and Robert had poured a lot of time into and taken a lot of enjoyment from showing Aaron that the prep can be just as pleasurable, that there’s just as much satisfaction in the drawn out anticipation as there is in the next part. The first time Robert had made him come from two fingers inside him and his mouth on his cock, Aaron had been a wreck after, so gorgeous he looked like fucking artwork stretched out beneath Robert. 

By the time Robert’s certain Aaron is more than ready, slick and stretched from Robert’s fingers, Aaron’s impatient and breathless. Grinning, Robert shifts up onto his knees and rolls the condom onto his erection. With one hand on Aaron’s leg, holding it in position, and the other guiding himself, he slowly pushes inside Aaron.

“_Fuck_,” Aaron hisses, eyes screwing shut.

He’s tight, clenching around Robert, and he takes it slow, pausing halfway to let Aaron adjust. His chest heaves and his fingers twist in the sheets; it takes a couple of long, torturous minutes before he nods, encouraging Robert to slide in deeper. Once he’s fully seated, he waits, holding still so Aaron can relax and accommodate him, waiting for the initial ache to shift to pleasure. He strokes gently at Aaron’s side, soothing him.

When Aaron opens his eyes again, he swallows, gaze locking on Robert’s. A small smile ghosts across his mouth as he reaches up, cupping the back of Robert’s neck. He gives a little squeeze, affectionate.

“You good?” he murmurs.

Robert nods. He leans forward to taste the smile on Aaron’s mouth and the change in angle has them both grunting as he pushes in deeper, Aaron clenching instinctively around him. Aaron’s hand slips from Robert’s neck to his jaw, then up, smoothing his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. Robert presses another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I want…” 

“What?” Aaron pants.

Robert pulls back again, looking down at him. He pulls out slightly, then pushes back in, savouring the way Aaron shudders, pleasure glazing over his eyes. Honestly spills out of Robert, heat crackling between them as he rolls his hips slowly, teasingly.

“I want you to remember this. This moment. You and me.” He kisses Aaron’s knee as he parts his legs more, pushes in deeper. “So that whenever you’re with someone else, no matter when it is, _who_ it is…you’ll always be thinking of _me_.”

Aaron laughs slightly. “Bit possessive,” he remarks.

Robert grins. “You love it.”

“Smug bastard.”

He thrusts a little harder, smirking slightly. “You love it,” he repeats.

To his surprise, Aaron pushes slightly at his chest. Robert pulls out, sitting back, but he doesn’t get chance to ask; Aaron straddles him, fingers digging into Robert’s shoulders as he sinks down. They move together, Aaron corkscrewing his hips down as Robert thrusts up, and they find their pace, hard and slow, mouths moving in tandem with their bodies as they kiss.

Robert comes first, pushes deep inside Aaron as he shakes, nails scoring little half-moons in the flesh of Aaron’s back as he kisses him desperately. Reaching a hand between them, he strokes him until Aaron comes with a grunt, teeth catching on Robert’s lip. He keeps going until Aaron twitches and gasps, oversensitive, and then wipes his hand carelessly on the sheets. 

Aaron sags against him, face buried against Robert’s throat. He kisses lazily there, lips barely fluttering across Robert’s skin, and runs gentle, soothing fingers up and down Robert’s spine. 

“Alright?” he checks, still breathless.

“Yeah,” Robert manages. “You?”

“Sticky,” he says dryly. He wriggles his hips slightly. “You gonna…?”

“Not yet,” he replies, quiet, almost pleading. “Just…not yet.”

Aaron doesn’t question it, just nods. His hand finds Robert’s neck again, curves over the back of it before he starts playing idly with the short, wispy hair at the base of his skull. His touch is firm and comforting; one of the thousands of ways Aaron always communicates how he feels with his body rather than with his words. It makes Robert feel secure. 

“So, uh,” Aaron says after a while. “You look like you’re about to cry. And that’s not exactly flattering, really, the bloke you’re with getting all weepy after fucking you.” 

“S’not you,” Robert assures him. “Well. It _is_ you. But it’s good. I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?” he suggests, and Robert thinks about the barn, thinks about the first time he was inside Aaron and how it felt like his whole universe had changed afterwards.

“Something like that,” he agrees. “I just missed this. I missed you.”

Aaron’s thumb traces the curve of Robert’s jaw. “I know.”

Slowly, Robert pulls out, kissing sweetly at Aaron’s mouth when he winces slightly. The mess on their bellies is cooling and sticky, tacky between them as they flop back onto the bed, and he imagines Aaron’s got to be feeling a little gross by now. 

“Shower?” he suggests, kissing Aaron’s shoulder.

“Dunno,” he replies, the word fractured by a lazy yawn. “I’m pretty comfy here, actually.”

Robert pulls a face. “These sheets are disgusting.”

Aaron opens his eyes, slanting a look at Robert. “I reckon you probably want that chat now, then?”

He nods and Aaron sighs, resigned. Sitting up, he presses a kiss to Robert’s temple.

“I’ll shower first, yeah? You sort the sheets.”

“Not your maid,” Robert grumbles, but clambers off the bed. 

He watches Aaron go. He’s half-tempted to follow him, but he knows from experience that they don’t fit in the shower. The bath-shower unit in the bathroom is tiny and slippery. They’d tried once, on one of the rare occasions where they had the entire place to themselves with no interruptions, to fool around in the shower, and it had ended in disaster; Aaron had been left with tears of laughter rolling down his face, and Robert had left with a bruise on his knee almost as big as the one to his ego. 

Stripping the sheets, he stuffs them into the laundry basket, squeezing down so the lid can close again. He knows where the other set is kept, folded neatly on one of the shelves in Aaron’s wardrobe, and he makes quick work of making the bed again. When he’s done, he glances up to see Aaron leaning in the doorway, hair still damp and curling from his shower, a towel slung low around his hips.

“And here we see the domesticated Robert Sugden,” he teases. “An expert in turning down beds, he’s often seen folding out wrinkles in sheets and plumping pillows.”

“You’re such a wind-up,” Robert accuses, shaking his head. “You need to stop watching those David Attenborough programmes.”

Aaron just shrugs, an unrepentant grin on his face. Smiling, Robert crosses the room to kiss him, hooking his fingers under the towel. Aaron’s skin is still heated and damp from the shower, a bead of water sliding down his jaw, and Robert leans in, catching it with his tongue. He breathes in the sharp, fresh scent of his shower gel, dipping his fingers further under the towel, and Aaron kisses him back briefly before he pulls away.

“I just got clean,” he warns. “Go shower. You stink.”

“Nice,” Robert remarks. “Why did I miss you, again?”

“You know exactly why,” Aaron replies smugly. He gives a sharp, teasing swat to Robert’s bare ass cheek. “Go. Unless you want to give Charity an eyeful when she comes up here.”

“Dunno. I reckon she’d like it.”

“Maybe,” Aaron agrees, pulling a face. “But _I_ wouldn’t.”

Grinning, Robert steals one more kiss before obediently grabbing the towel Aaron holds out, heading to the bathroom.

He keeps his shower quick and perfunctory, stealing some of Aaron’s shower gel. When he returns to the bedroom, Aaron’s dressed in trackies and a grey jumper, stretched out on the bed, one knee propped up as he messes around on his phone. Robert watches him for a moment, fondness unfurling in his chest, before he dries off and reluctantly pulls his jeans back on, sans his boxers. He borrows one of Aaron’s long-sleeved shirts, a soft, well-worn one with a faded oil stain near the collar. It smells of his shampoo and laundry detergent, and Robert likes the way it fits a little loosely around his shoulders. 

Getting to his feet, Aaron tucks his phone into his pocket and presses a quick, soft kiss to Robert’s mouth.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll make us a drink and we can talk.”

Robert follows him out, closing the door behind them. Aaron jogs down the stairs and into the living room, pausing slightly through the doorway. Robert steps in behind him, hand going to his hip, but then he catches sight of what made Aaron stop.

“Oh,” Chas says from the kitchen, blinking at them. “Oh. Well, then.” Clearing her throat, she smiles and grabs another mug from the cupboard. “Hello, Robert. I see you’ve borrowed the shower. That’s fine. Tea, then, is it?”

Robert nods. “Uh, yeah. That’d be great. Cheers.”

Aaron pulls a face at Chas as he drops down into one of the chairs around the table. “Don’t make a big deal, mum, alright?”

“My baby’s smiling,” she replies, gently cupping his chin as she smothers his cheek with kisses, laughing at his embarrassment. “’Course I’m gonna make a big deal.”

Aaron shakes his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What are you like.”

Chas grins, then looks up at Robert as he sits down next to Aaron. “You,” she says happily. “Hurt him and I’ll break ya kneecaps. Got it?”

“Noted,” Robert replies mildly.

Her smile widens and she pats his shoulder once. The kettle finishes boiling and she makes three cups of tea, setting two down on the table in front of them. Then she hovers, smiling at them both, fingers curled around her own mug. Aaron raises his eyebrows at her.

“What?” he prompts.

“Well?” she asks, dragging the word out expectantly.

He frowns. “Well, what? Do you want me to tell you how many times we’ve done it?”

Chas slaps him gently on the shoulder. “Oi. No. I just want to know if Robert’s face is going to be a permanent fixture around here, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, we haven’t exactly talked about that between ourselves yet,” Aaron mutters. “Give us some space, yeah?”

She shakes her head. “Grumpy,” she accuses. “Fine. I’ll leave you be.”

She starts towards the door, mug in hand, but it opens before she reaches it. Vic pops her head around it, a concerned expression on her face.

“Um,” she says. “Visitors.”

Chas frowns. “Who?”

Her answer is Vic reluctantly shuffling out of the way so two police offers can step into the room. They’re both dressed for the weather, ice clinging to their shoes and flakes of snow spattered on their high-vis jackets. The woman has her blonde hair pinned neatly back and a tired, sombre frown on her face; her partner, a bloke who looks to be in his forties with greying hair and ruddy cheeks, smiles as he looks round at them all, but it isn’t a friendly one.

Chas’s gaze snaps to Aaron, a dangerous look on her face. Aaron just looks resigned, glancing briefly at Robert before he leans back in his seat, adjusting his posture into something loose and unconcerned. Chas fixes her expression into a tight smile as she turns back to the officers.

“I hope you’ve got a warrant to be in here,” she remarks lightly. 

“Why?” The man replies. “Is there a reason we’d need one?”

“Not at all, officer. How can we help?”

“We need a word with Mr Livesy,” he says. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” She returns. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I hang about. It being my living room and all.”

“Mum,” Aaron cuts in with a sigh. “It’s fine. Go downstairs.”

She pulls a face at him but obliges, throwing a look of distaste over her shoulders at the coppers on her way out of the door with Vic. It closes behind them and the two officers shuffle further into the room. The bloke looks at Robert, but he just leans back, holding his gaze. There’s no way he’s leaving Aaron on his own. Clearly, the officer gets the message, because he quickly loses the staring contest, instead looking at Aaron.

“It’s been a while, Mr Livesy,” he remarks.

“It’s Dingle now,” he replies sullenly.

“Is it now?” His smile widens. “I’ll be sure to make a note of that.” 

Aaron shrugs, then spreads his hands slightly. “So. What’s this about?”

“I’m PC Hurley,” the woman says. “You already know PC Grant –.”

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees, a hint of a smirk on his face. “We go way back, don’t we?” 

Hurley clears her throat. “We just want to have a chat about your whereabouts last night.”

Aaron relaxes back in his chair. He shrugs with his mouth, casual to the point of belligerence, a touch of smugness to his expression that Robert knows is designed to antagonise the two police officers. He tries to catch Aaron’s gaze, but he’s focused on PC Grant, a cool glint in his eyes that reminds Robert of Cain.

“Why?” he asks obnoxiously. “What’s it to ya?”

“There was an attempted robbery at Blackmills, the industrial estate out near the quarry?” PC Hurley says. “One of the warehouses there, Smith and Beckett’s Auto Emporium, was broken into. You know the place?”

“Yeah. They sell car parts, right?” Aaron nods thoughtfully. “Shame. I hear their parts are decent. Probably fetch a good sum on the market, I reckon.”

Robert wants to kiss him as much as he wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him. He keeps his own expression carefully neutral, watching as irritation flickers, briefly, across PC Hurley’s face. Grant looks like he’s used to Aaron’s particular brand of fuck-you contentiousness, but there’s a sharp gleam in his pale eyes that Robert doesn’t like. He thinks he’s got Aaron. He _wants_ it, clearly; relishes the thought of arresting him and getting him locked up. Given Aaron’s history with the police and his attitude towards those in authority, it isn’t really surprising, but there’s no way Robert’s letting this bloke get his own way.

Grant speaks up. “Whoever broke in triggered the alarm. One of the security guards went to check it out and saw a bloke legging it to a car. We’ve got it on CCTV, but the plates were fake.” 

“Right. Well, that’s a nice story, but what’s it got to do with me?” Aaron asks, boredom staining his tone. “I mean, if you’re asking my opinion as a former mechanic, then I reckon the car’s well gone by now. Scrapped, maybe, or taken to some dodgy garage to be given a new paintjob and new plates for the next robbery.” 

“Is that right?” PC Hurley asks. “You won’t mind if we have a look at your scrapyard, then? Or your uncle’s garage?”

“It’s my cousin’s, actually. Debbie Dingle. You’ll have to ask her. As for the yard, yeah, sure.” Aaron leans forward, smiling. “So long as you’ve got a warrant, of course.”

“Right. Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to get one pretty quickly.” Hurley replies. “Because, you see, our witness wasn’t able to give a description of the bloke who legged it. But he was able to provide a description of the driver of the car. A description that matches you.”

“Interesting,” Aaron replies, shrugging, unconcerned. “Must be some bloke who looks like me. ‘Cause I weren’t anywhere near Blackmills last night.”

“Are you sure about that?” Grant presses. “Because if we find out that you’re lying -.”

“He’s not,” Robert cuts him off. “He was with me. All night.”

Grant’s gaze snaps to him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Where?”

Robert shrugs. “Here.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Hurley questions.

“Well,” he says slowly. “We were in his bedroom, so I’m sure you can use your imagination.”

Aaron grins, settling back in his chair. “There you go, then. We done here?”

The two officers exchange a glance, but Hurley nods, resigned. Her jacket crackles as she shifts slightly, placing her hat back on top of her head. 

“For now,” she agrees. “If any new information comes to light, we might just have another chat.”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon, regardless,” Grant adds.

“I look forward to it,” Aaron replies. “Take care, mate.”

Robert reaches under the table, giving Aaron’s knee a hard squeeze in warning, but he just smiles. He doesn’t get to his feet to see the two officers out. PC Hurley casts one last look back at them before she closes the door behind her. 

They sit in silence, listening to the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Robert gets to his feet, glancing discreetly out of the window. Once the coppers have climbed into their car and disappeared down the road, he turns back to Aaron, placing his palms flat on the table.

“Do you have to antagonise them?” he asks.

“Have to? Nah. But it’s fun.” Aaron shrugs, then looks at him, a slight grin edging onto his face. “Besides, you like it.”

“That’s…besides the point,” he mutters, and Aaron’s grin widens. “I’m serious, Aaron. One day, you’ll wind one of ‘em so much that they hit you.”

“Probably,” he agrees carelessly. “And whatever they’re trying to do me for will probably get thrown out ‘cause they used unreasonable force.”

Robert shakes his head. “Is that the Dingle motto?”

“No. Just some Dingle advice.” Aaron lifts his mug to his mouth, blowing slightly at the steam twisting off the surface of his tea to cool it. “Cheers, anyway. For giving me an alibi.”  
Robert sighs, dropping his head forward. “Is this how it’s going to be? Starting out our relationship with you lying to me?”

“I didn’t _lie_,” Aaron protests. “I was gonna tell you when we got round to our little chat. Besides, is that what this is? A relationship?”

“Well, we weren’t exactly playing _Scrabble_ in your bedroom just now, were we?”

“Fucking doesn’t always mean a relationship,” Aaron points out. “You know that well enough, don’t you?”

The reminder of Chrissie and the affair sends a pulse of irritation through Robert. He clenches his jaw. “Really? After everything, you’re still gonna throw that at me?”

Aaron exhales slowly, scratching slightly at his eyebrow. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being a prat.”

“Yeah, you are. _Again_.” But he can feel the smile trying to steal across his mouth and he shakes his head, dropping back into his chair. “You’re lucky that kind of behaviour impresses me, you know.”

Aaron slants a look at him. “It does?” 

“Haven’t you noticed by now? I wanted to shag you the second I found out you were a thief with a conscience. But I’d also prefer that you didn’t end up behind bars again.” Robert looks over at him. “So. You did rob the place, then?”

“No. I wasn’t robbing anything. I just…agreed to drive the car.”

Robert scoffs, incredulous. “Oh, so you weren’t the robber, just the getaway driver. ‘Cause that’s obviously so much better.” 

Aaron sighs. “It isn’t a big deal, Rob.”

“It is when you could get sent down for it,” he insists. “Let me guess, the robber was Shane.”

He nods once and Robert rubs at his forehead, frustrated.

“For god’s sake, Aaron, _why_?” 

“I owed him a favour, okay?”

“Oh, right. Okay. So, what, you did a blood oath? Maybe shook pinkies on it?” Robert says and Aaron pulls a face. “No, no, I get it. That’s serious stuff. No need to explain.”

Aaron’s upper lip curls slightly. “Go fuck yourself, Robert.”

He shakes his head. “So you owe him a favour. Because, what? He watched your back in prison? Because he stopped you from getting your head kicked in?” Robert demands. “Alright, fine, so you owe him for that. But you don’t owe him anything that will get you sent _back_ to prison. The spice, driving the car, surely that’s more than enough.”

“It ain’t that simple, Robert.”

“It is in my book,” he snaps. 

“But not in mine, or his,” Aaron shoots back. “You don’t get it, alright?”

“Then explain it to me.” When he looks away, Robert stands, moving to crouch in front of Aaron. “Oi. I mean it. Tell me what’s going on. Has Shane got something over you? Is he blackmailing you?”

Aaron sighs. “No.”

Robert frowns. “Then, what? What’s worth the risk of ending up back in jail? Or getting hurt, or worse?” 

“_Nothing_!” he shouts. “Nothing is worth it, alright?”

“Then _why_? Why go along with it?” Robert pauses, taking in Aaron’s expression. “Hang on. Is he threatening ya?”

Aaron shakes his head, looking away. “Just leave it, Robert.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Robert reaches out, taking hold of Aaron’s shoulders. “Aaron, just tell me and we can fix it.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because Shane isn’t the kind of bloke you just say no to, alright?” Aaron snaps. “Him _or_ his family. If you owe them…you do whatever they want, whatever it takes to get them off your back. Whatever it is they want, it’s easier than the alternative.”

“The alternative?” he questions gently.

“Your life.” Aaron swallows. “The lives of the people you care about.”

Anger explodes to life in Robert’s chest. “So he _did_ threaten you?”

“And my mum. Paddy, Rhona, Leo. And Cain, Debbie and Sarah. Adam and Vic. He even threatened Liv.” Aaron’s gaze slides away. “He threatened you and all.”

“_God_,” Robert mutters. He gets to his feet and hauls Aaron up into a hug. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“How?” Aaron demands. “How is it possibly gonna be okay? Shane’s dangerous. His whole family is. If I say no, it ain’t just me they’ll go after. In their eyes, it’ll be war.”

Robert pulls back, cupping Aaron’s face. He’s been dealing with this by himself for _weeks_. No wonder he’s looked so exhausted and worn down lately. 

“It will be,” he insists. “Because you’re not alone. You’re a Dingle, remember? Your family won’t stand by while some wanker gives you grief. And you’ve got me.”

Aaron frowns. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Well, first, we’re going to go find Cain. And we’re going to tell him everything. We’ll fix this the Dingle way. I’ve heard plenty of things about the Dingle way, you know.”

He shakes his head. “Cain will go off on one and the McCormacs will react.”

“Not if we sit him down and tell him _everything_. We can do this the smart way.”

“Which _isn’t_ the Dingle way,” Aaron jokes weakly, a small smile flickering across his face. 

“Depends on the Dingle. I think you’re pretty smart.” Robert wraps his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, kissing his temple. “I mean it. We’ll fix it. You’re not alone, Aaron. You’ve got me. You’ve _always_ got me. I love ya.”

Aaron tenses slightly, pulling away. His gaze slips to the floor and Robert watches him, heart sinking into his belly. Frustration and rejection battles with understanding and sympathy in his chest, knotting his heart up into a tangled mess. He gets it, gets that Aaron is prone to being insecure, that his past has him doubting anything good in his life, but he wishes he would believe Robert when he says those words, wishes that he could brand them on Aaron’s heart so that they’re always with him.

“I mean it,” he insists. “I _love_ you. I never stopped loving you, not for one second.”

“Right,” Aaron mutters. “Even when you were shouting at me in court ‘cause you thought I’d tried to kill ya?”

“Even then,” he says firmly. He sighs, then admits quietly, “It scares me, you know. How much I love you. What I’d do for you. Or, more precisely, what I _wouldn’t_ do, which isn’t much, as it happens. I love you, Aaron. Nothing and no one else has ever come close. Nothing and no one else ever _will_.”

“Until you get bored of me.” The words are so quiet that Robert almost misses them, but that doesn’t make them hurt any less.

He stares, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Aaron demands, cheeks stained red as his anger bursts to life. “You like the chase, Robert. The thrill of it, of playing the game and getting what you want. But the second you’ve got it, you get bored and you move on to the next cheap thrill. ‘Cause I wasn’t your first affair when you were with Chrissie, was I?”

“You were my _only_ affair,” he replies fiercely. “I had one night stands, yeah, but nothing like what I had with you.”

“Oh, great distinction there, mate,” he scoffs. “I know there were others. And I’ve heard about you and Chrissie’s sister. There’s no line you won’t cross, Robert. I mean, you and me, it’s not dirty and wrong anymore, not now there’s no wife to cheat on or secret to keep from everyone. You miss the fumbles in the hay, don’t you?”

It strikes a nerve because he _does_ miss their hook ups in the barn. But not for the reason Aaron thinks; he doesn’t miss the risk of being caught by Chrissie, doesn’t miss the deceit and frustration and guilt of the whole thing. But he misses the world they created just for themselves, a place carved out of hay and decaying wood just for them; he savours those memories, brief snapshots in time where he got to feel Aaron’s heated flesh against his own, got to taste his mouth and brand his smile into his memory before reluctantly going back to Home Farm and Chrissie. 

His own anger rushes to the surface. “What about you?” he points out, voice rough. “You backed off pretty quick after you told Chrissie the truth.”

Aaron jerks back slightly, pulling a face. “Pretty sure that had more to do with the other stuff, actually.” 

“You turned me down,” Robert reminds him, words seething between his teeth. The rejection still stings. “After the trial was over, you turned me down. _Twice_. So what, exactly, am I supposed to think? Maybe it’s _you_ that’s bored now it’s no longer a dirty little secret.”

Aaron’s mouth pulls into a dangerous smile, gaze lit up. “Well, come on then,” he says, tone hard and brutal. “Let’s do this. Fuck me, right here. Just like old times, eh? Have to be quick, though, don’t want anyone to catch us and know you like sucking dick. Oh, and don’t forget to push me away after and avoid looking at me for a few days. It wouldn’t be the same without that little bonus, would it?”

He kisses Robert then, hard and rough, and he sighs, cupping Aaron’s face as he pulls back. 

“No,” he says quietly.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to be another way for you to hurt yourself.”

Aaron looks down, swallowing, shame seeping into his expression. “You were never a way to hurt myself,” he mutters.

“Really?” he asks dubiously. He can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Even back during the affair?”

His gaze snaps back to Robert’s. “Even then,” he says firmly. “Everything else, yeah, that hurt. But I didn’t _want_ it to hurt. I hated it, Robert. But me and you? When it was _just_ me and you? That never hurt. Never. That felt right.”

Robert strokes his thumb along Aaron’s jaw, tracing the sharp curve of it. “Then trust me. I won’t get bored of you. I couldn’t. You’re everything, Aaron. Dunno if I believe in soulmates, but if they exist…then that’s what you are, okay?”

“Cheesy,” Aaron remarks, a clear deflection, and Robert frowns.

“Is it ‘cause I’m bisexual?” he asks. “Is that why you think I’ll cheat?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m scared you’ll cheat because you’ve got a history for it. It’s literally how we started, Rob. You cheating on your missus. You bragged about it to Chrissie, remember? About your many one night stands?”

Robert closes his eyes. Regret fills his throat like ash. “But I wouldn’t cheat on you. I promise.”

“How can I be certain of that?”

Robert gazes at him. He can sense this conversation going round in circles. He bites back the words he wants to say and thinks about it instead. After a moment, he drops his hands and steps away from Aaron.

“Say no,” he says.

Aaron frowns. “What?”

“Say no,” Robert repeats. “End it. Properly. Right here and now. Say we’re done and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“Robert, I…” Aaron swallows.

“Go on, then. Say it. Say no.”

“I _can’t_,” he snaps.

Relief rushes through him. He reaches out, curling his fingers in the fabric of Aaron’s jumper. “If you can’t,” he murmurs. “If you still care about me, if you still _love_ me, then give me a chance. Give me a chance to fight for ya, to prove to ya that I won’t let you down, no matter what. Let me prove to you that I love you.”

Aaron’s gaze searches his. He can feel the moment balancing on the edge of a knife, feels his heart thundering in his throat as he waits for Aaron to make a decision. There’s no going back after this, no going back to being just friends. Either they make a go of it, or they finish it for good. Robert isn’t sure how he’ll cope with the latter, but he can’t take the hurt and longing anymore; he’d rather not be in Aaron’s life at all than be kept in a constant state of limbo. 

Finally, Aaron exhales, nodding slightly. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “Yeah, okay.” 

Robert makes a soft sound, part relief and part desperation, and pulls him in, kissing him. Aaron kisses him back, soothing the hardness of the kiss into something gentler and sweeter. When they pull apart, Robert hugs him, burying his face in Aaron’s neck, and he feels his arms wrap around him in response. 

“We take it slow, yeah?” Aaron murmurs. “Do it right this time.”

Nodding, Robert pulls back. He smiles slightly. “I don’t think I ever took you on a proper date, did I? I should change that.”

“I’m not a cheap date,” he warns, teasing, smiling when Robert huffs a laugh and kisses him again.

The door creaking open interrupts them. Robert keeps his hands on Aaron’s waist as he looks over his shoulder. Chas peers round the door, eyeing them.

“I heard the shouting stop,” she says. “So I reckoned it was safe to come in.”

Aaron nods, pulling away from Robert. Resigned, he sits back down at the table. “Alright. Let’s have it, then.”

Chas steps inside properly, shutting the door behind her. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Coppers at my door. Again. What are you playing at?”

“Uh, hang on,” Aaron says with a frown. “Who says I’ve done anything?”

“Your colourful record, that’s what,” she snips.

He sighs, tipping his head back slightly. He slants a look at Robert and he shakes his head ever so slightly in response. Chas should know, but not yet. Not until they’ve spoken to Cain and come up with some sort of plan. Chas has a tendency to go off on one when her son is in danger, acting first and thinking later, and they can’t afford that right now. They need to be smart about this.

“They thought I might be involved in something,” Aaron says. “A robbery. But it weren’t me. I was with Robert.” 

Chas looks between them, assessing, then nods. “Well, alright, then. In that case, I’m going for a bath. If Charity shouts for me, tell her I’m not in.”

With a cheeky grin, she beelines for the stairs. Robert watches her go, then turns to Aaron, who offers a small smile. 

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Aaron looks at him, a little uncertain and a little guilty, and Robert shakes his head. He cups the back of Aaron’s neck, bending to kiss him gently.

“Someday,” he says softly. “Someday you’ll believe me when I say I love ya. Even if I have to spend forever proving it to you, I will. ‘Cause you’re worth it, Aaron. You’re everything to me. You know?”

Aaron leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I know.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: mention of Gordon and past child sexual abuse (including some derogatory things said by Lachlan), self-harm (in the form of punching a wall), description of minor injuries and blood, mention of assault and drugs.

Robert spends the night.

They sleep together, just sleep, Aaron’s arm slung casually over Robert’s hip, his breath tickling his shoulder as he snores. It’s incredible how much Robert missed something as simple as this. He didn’t get to indulge in it much during the affair; the week Aaron spent at his aside, it was rare they got to spend a full night together. He should have cherished it more back then, but it feels so good to have it now.

Aaron wakes first. By the time Robert pries his eyelids open, yawning, he’s alone in bed. He stretches his hand out, brushes fingers over the wrinkled sheets next to him; they’re cold. Rubbing sleep dust from his eyes, he pushes up on one elbow to check his phone. It’s almost eight. 

The door opens and Aaron ducks his head inside. He’s breathless, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat; his earphones are dangled around his neck. 

“You’ve been running?” Robert asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah, just a quick one,” he replies. “I’m just going to take a shower. You want breakfast?”

He gazes at Aaron, trying to get a read on his expression. He knows one run isn’t something to get worried about, but Aaron has a tendency to get obsessive about it, pushing himself too far. Exercise to him can be another form of hurting himself. Considering everything going on with Shane, it isn’t surprising that Aaron’s head might be all over the place.

Aaron sighs at the look Robert gives him. “I’m fine,” he says firmly. “It was just a run, okay?” 

“Alright,” Robert murmurs. “Breakfast would be good.”

Aaron nods, grabbing his towel and shower gel. Once the door is shut again, Robert slides out of bed and gets dressed. He’s trying to sort out his messy hair with his fingers when Aaron returns, freshly showered. He grins, reaching out to fluff Robert’s hair up again, and Robert shakes his head, catching the corner of the towel around Aaron’s waist. He uses it to reel him into a slow kiss. Aaron tastes of minty toothpaste, his bare skin hot under Robert’s palms. 

“Ugh,” Aaron says, pulling a face. “Morning breath.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a toothbrush here, do I?” Robert points out. 

Aaron shakes his head but kisses him again before he pulls away properly. Robert waits for him to get dressed, then follows him down the stairs. Chas and Charity are in the kitchen and they both fall silent when they see Aaron and Robert, sharing an amused look.

“So,” Chas says. “Robert stayed over.”

“That’s fine,” Charity adds. “It’s sweet, really. Like Romeo and Juliet. But gay.”

Aaron pulls a face. “Didn’t they both die?”

“Oh, aye,” Chas grins. “Someone did pay _some_ attention in school, then.” 

He shrugs, embarrassed, and Charity reaches out, ruffling his hair. Then she’s the one pulling a face, nose scrunching up as she rubs her hand on her jeans.

“Ugh, lay off the gel,” she advises.

“Don’t touch my hair, then,” Aaron huffs. “Is there any toast going?”

“This isn’t a café, you know,” Chas complains, but she holds out two plates loaded up with buttered toast all the same. “I’ll make some tea.”

“Does the tea come with a side of nosy questions?” Aaron asks. “’Cause if so, we’ll take it go, ta.”

“Excuse me for having an interest in my son’s life.”

“You should try having our Debbie,” Charity says. “She doesn’t even speak to me half the time.”

Aaron shrugs as he sits down at the table. “Well, you do have an amazing ability to mess things up. Like the time you left her dad to die in the road. Not the best way to bond with your daughter, is it?”

“Oi,” she snaps, slapping his shoulder with her hand. “Watch it, you.”

Robert bumps his knee against Aaron’s under the table, swallowing a mouthful of toast. “Has anyone ever told you that your family is bloody weird?”

All three of them stop and look at him. It’s unnerving, being on the receiving end of matching Dingle stares, and Robert knows exactly what they’re getting at: his own family isn’t exactly normal. Shifting slightly, he clears his throat.

“Alright,” he says. “Point taken.”

Aaron grins and bumps his knee back. Thankfully, both Chas and Charity manage to refrain from playing twenty-four questions, but that doesn’t stop the knowing looks and nudges as they watch both men eat. By the time they’ve finished breakfast, Robert is more than ready to get out of the fish bowl. The knock on the door is a welcome relief.

Until they see who it is.

“Alright?” Shane says, following Chas in after she opens the door for him. He pats Aaron’s shoulder. “Thought I’d come and see how you’re doing, lad.”

Aaron gulps down the rest of his tea. “I’m fine.”

Chas and Charity exchange a look. “Right,” Chas says. “Well, duty calls. We’ve got a delivery to sort out.”

Robert doesn’t miss the look of disdain she shoots at Shane as she and Charity head out. He has to admit, it’s nice to see someone else on the receiving end of that look for once. Once the door has shut behind them, Aaron gets to his feet, turning to face Shane.

“What do ya want?” 

“I had a visit from the coppers last night,” Shane says. “They reckon they’ve got CCTV footage that puts me near the scene of the robbery last night. I denied any involvement, obviously. They couldn’t arrest me, not enough evidence.” He glances at Robert. “I heard you’ve got an alibi. Nice, that, innit?”

Aaron shrugs. “So?”

Shane steps closer. “The pigs are on to me,” he says lowly. “If I get sent down for this, I’m making sure you go down with me. You and lover boy here, since he gave a false alibi and all.”

Aaron looks away, huffing a little laugh that might as well be a gunshot for how much danger it contains. His hands are on Shane’s jacket a second later, slamming him into the wall hard enough for the cabinet to rattle. He pins him there, shoving him back slightly when Shane struggles.

“I really wouldn’t threaten me right now, mate,” he spits the words between his teeth. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Aaron,” Robert warns, reaching out to touch his elbow. 

“And you have no idea what _I’m_ capable of,” Shane bites back. “Maybe I’ll go pay that sister of yours a visit.”

Aaron’s hands tighten on Shane’s collar, anger slashing across his face, and Robert grabs hold of him before he can lash out, pulling him away from Shane. Rage twists in his own chest at the thought of Shane hurting Aaron’s sister, but they have to be smart about this. Aaron doesn’t fight him, but he keeps his stare on Shane as Robert puts a hand on his chest, forcing him to back up a few steps.

“Look, it doesn’t need to go that far, alright?” Robert says, glancing back at Shane. “You’re not going down for anything. Either of you.”

Shane pushes away from the wall, movements jerky with his own fury. He runs a hand under his nose, eyes blazing as he looks at Aaron.

“Yeah, well, I better not,” he seethes. “Don’t forget you still owe me, _mate_. You’re supposed to be watching my back.”

Aaron opens his mouth and Robert squeezes his arm gently in warning. 

“We haven’t forgotten,” Robert says evenly. “He’s just on edge this morning. He’s sorry. Aren’t ya?” He adds pointedly to Aaron.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, sorry, mate.”

Shane stabs a finger in Aaron’s direction. “Better watch yourself, lad,” he warns. “Get a grip.” 

Aaron twitches slightly and Robert pushes him back another step, giving him a cautioning look. Shane scoffs, shaking his head, and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him. Once they’re alone, Robert slowly releases his hold on Aaron.

“Well,” he says. “So much for being smart about this.” 

Aaron turns away, curling his fingers tight around the back of one of the dining chairs. “I know, I know,” he snaps. “I just…I lost it. I’m sick of him threatening me, alright? I feel like I’m spiralling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not alone now, are ya? We’ll fix this. But you can’t go off on one, Aaron. You said yourself how dangerous he is.”

“I _know_,” he repeats, then sighs. “Thanks. For holding me back.”

“Like I said, you’re not alone anymore.” Robert rubs a hand over Aaron’s back. “I’m with you, Aaron. Always. Come here.”

Aaron turns into Robert’s waiting hug, curling his arms tight around him. 

***

Vic’s already up when Robert gets back. 

Bundled up in her fluffy dressing gown, she looks half-asleep still, slumped over a mug of coffee. But she perks up the second she sees him, a half-knowing, half-hopeful grin on her face.

“So, smitten kitten,” she says. “You didn’t come home last night.”

“Thanks for the memo,” he replies dryly, grabbing a cup to pour his own coffee.

“And you’re grouchy,” she remarks, expression falling. “It didn’t go well, then? With Aaron?”

“No, it, uh…” He feels a smile tug at his mouth as he thinks about yesterday. “It went really well, actually. We’re together. Taking it slow, but…yeah.” 

Vic’s face lights up and she gets to her feet, hugging him. “I’m happy for ya,” she says. “Both of ya. Do I need to give him the shovel talk?”

“You’re about as intimidating as a wet sock, so, no,” he replies. “But cheers anyway.”

She swats playfully at his arm, but she isn’t really offended. She genuinely looks pleased for him and Aaron, which is a relief. Robert knows she would have supported him even if she didn’t agree with his choice in partner, but it’s good to know that she’s really happy about him being with Aaron. 

Fixing his coffee, Robert joins her at the table. She watches him for a moment, then reaches over, prodding gently at his forehead.

“So what’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, then pauses. “Wait, by slow, do you mean _really_ slow?”

Robert shakes his head slightly. “No, and, no, I’m not discussing my sex life with you. It’s not about me and Aaron, not really. Just…stuff going on.”

“Stuff,” she repeats. “Well, that’s specific. Can I help?”

“No,” he says firmly. He doesn’t want Vic anywhere near the Shane situation. “I’ve got a handle on it.”

She eyes him for a moment, dubious, but reluctantly nods. They finish their coffee in peaceful silence after that. 

It’s nice. When he first got back, after the drama with Andy and how much it tore Vic apart to witness the ugliness between her brothers, he’d thought they wouldn’t get to have this, the kind of relationship where they _can_ just sit in silence without it being awkward, but here they are. He’s grateful.

***

Robert has a meeting late in the morning.

He has plans with Aaron later to meet up and go over how they’re going to tackle the Shane situation. Their first step is telling Cain everything, but they need to hash out the details of what they’re going to do _after_ that. They need to be careful and secure in that whatever they do, it won’t have repercussions for them.

He ends up having a late lunch in Leeds after the meeting runs over. It’s sleeting when he gets back on the road, so between the shitty weather and the seemingly permanent road works and closed lanes, the M62 is a nightmare. It’s gridlocked from the moment he pulls onto it and he taps his fingers impatiently on the wheel. He manages to crawl forward an inch before traffic stops again. 

It takes forever to reach his exit and, with the state of the country roads, almost as long before he gets back to Emmerdale. He parks outside Vic’s and stretches when he climbs out, easing the slight ache in his back from driving for so long. Locking up, he glances towards the Woolpack – and stops.

Aaron and Lachlan are in the middle of the road, clearly locked in some kind of argument. Aaron doesn’t look too concerned, has his hands shoved carelessly into the pockets of his hoodie, but, even from the distance, the cold look of rage on Lachlan’s face is clear and unsettlingly familiar. 

Robert starts jogging down the hill towards them, wariness a tight knot in his chest. He has to skid, gravel crunching under his shoes, to avoid a car that swerves past, horn blaring. A few other villagers are approaching the altercation, some out of nosiness and some ready to stop whatever’s going on before it spills into violence.

Aaron clearly doesn’t want it to go that far, though. He shakes his head and starts to turn away, but Lachlan says something, the sneer on his face shifting to a nasty, smug smirk. Robert can’t hear his words over the sound of the wind and his own footsteps, but whatever they are, they clearly hit their mark.

Aaron spins back around and goes for him, anger staining his cheeks ruddy, and Robert starts to reach out, but Cain gets there first. He catches his nephew around the shoulders, shoving him back, planting his feet when Aaron tries to push past him, focus on Lachlan.

“Hey, hey,” Cain says firmly. “Easy, lad. He’s not worth it, yeah? He’s just a kid.”

“He’s a runt,” Aaron seethes, struggling against Cain’s hold.

“No arguments there, mate, but he’s not worth prison time, is he?” Cain snaps. “Oi. Calm down, Aaron. Come on. Let’s grab a pint, eh?”

David’s shifted to stand slightly in front of Lachlan, both to stop Aaron from doing any damage and to stop Lachlan from trying anything, and Chrissie reaches them, heeled boots clicking on the ground. She grabs Lachlan by the shoulder, speaking lowly and urgently to him, but he shakes her off.

Robert reaches out, cupping the back of Aaron’s neck. The touch seems to ground him a little and he finally drags his gaze away from Lachlan, looking instead at Robert. There are tears in his eyes and he’s clenching his jaw hard enough that a muscle jumps, promising violence.

“Cain’s right,” Robert says. “He’s not worth it, Aaron.”

Behind them, Lachlan scoffs. “That didn’t take long, did it, mum?” he asks, tone poisonous. 

“Lucky,” she warns. “Leave it.”

“I wouldn’t get too settled, Aaron,” he continues coldly. “Robert will soon move on to the next whore. One with a lot less baggage, probably.” 

“Oi,” Cain keeps hold of Aaron as he turns, jabbing a finger in Lachlan’s direction, his gaze on Chrissie. “You’d better get your lad in order. One more word out of his gob and _I’ll_ deck him.”

“What the hell is going on out here?”

It’s Chas’s voice, her heels clattering as she jogs out of the pub, and she scowls when she sees who is involved. Chrissie starts to tug at Lachlan’s shoulder.

“We’re leaving,” she assures them. “Lucky, come on.”

Lachlan just sneers, gaze fixed on Aaron. The stony, almost weirdly dispassionate gleam in his eyes sends a chill down Robert’s spine and he shifts slightly, trying to block his view of Aaron. 

“Enjoy that money,” he says, tone drenched in so much hostility that it seems to crackle in the air around him. “I’d argue you’ve earned it.”

Aaron lunges forward again, hard and brutal like a caged animal, and it takes both Cain and Robert to shove him back again, keeping hold of his shoulders.

“Oi!” Cain says sharply. “Calm _down_.” 

“Aaron,” Chas warns, putting one hand on his chest as she looks over at Chrissie. “Get him out of here. _Now_.”

“Come on,” David says to Chrissie, putting one hand on Lachlan’s shoulder to start to pull him away. “You heard them.”

Lachlan’s upper lip curls. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, I reckon it is,” Cain replies, tone glacial. “I don’t give a damn how old you are, I won’t do you any favours next time.”

With both Chrissie and David pulling at him, Lachlan finally turns away, letting them lead him towards Chrissie’s car. Chas steps back, frowning.

“What the hell was that all about?” she demands.

“Not now, sis,” Cain says lowly. He keeps one hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s grab that pint. I’m buying.”

Aaron shakes his hand off with a jerky, sharp snap of his shoulder, pulling away from Robert too. He turns and stalks towards the pub, a whirlwind of incensed energy, and Cain shares a glance with Robert before they both follow, Chas right on their heels. Aaron doesn’t go inside; instead, he paces a tight path left to right in front of the building, once, twice, three times before he suddenly spins and smashes his fist into the stone wall.

“Hey!” Cain shouts, reaching out to grab hold of his arm.

But Aaron doesn’t go for another punch, instead slumping forward, pressing his forehead against the wall. He’s breathing heavily, eyes closed, and he doesn’t react when Robert gently takes hold of his wrist, lifting his hand to assess the damage. The skin across his knuckles is split, spilling blood, grit clinging to the edges of the cuts, and his hand is already swelling slightly.

“Oh, Aaron,” Chas murmurs. “Love. Come on. Let’s get that cleaned up.”

The anger seems to drain out of Aaron all at once. Nodding, he follows his mum inside the pub. Robert follows right behind them, Cain on his heels, and they don’t pause on their way through to the back room, ignoring Charity and Marlon’s questioning looks.

Aaron sits down heavily at the table and Chas ducks into the narrow kitchen to grab the first aid kit. Robert sits next to Aaron, scooting his chair around so he’s facing him, and Cain leans against the wall, eyebrows heavily drawn as he watches them.

Robert takes Aaron’s wrist and gently assesses his hand again. “Do you need to get this checked out?”

Aaron shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Cain mutters. “Apart from punching a wall.”

Aaron throws him a dark look. “Better a wall than Lachlan’s face, innit?”

Chas sets the first aid box on the table, snapping it open. “What the hell did that little scrote say to wind you up this much?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does when my son goes and smashes his fist into a wall,” she replies firmly. “Tell me, Aaron.”

“He just said some stuff about the inheritance. Belle mentioned it to him, I suppose. He said that I must have performed well to earn it. That he reckons I -.” Aaron stops, inhaling sharply. “He reckons I enjoyed what Gordon did to me. That I did what whores are good at. And then I got him banged up, where he killed himself, and got quarter of a million out of it.” 

“Bloody hell,” Cain seethes. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Thought he wasn’t worth it?” Aaron mutters. “Just a kid, you said.”

“Yeah, a kid who deserves getting his teeth knocked out.”

“Oi,” Chas warns. “Nobody is killing anybody. But I am gonna go and have a nice little chat with Chrissie. Tell her that if she doesn’t sort her lad out, then _I’ll_ be knocking his teeth out.”

Aaron sighs. “Don’t. Either of you. Just leave it, yeah?”

“No. I’m not having that waste of oxygen saying disgusting nonsense like that to you. You’ve been through enough without the likes of him winding you up. He’s a psycho.” Chas’s words are hard, but her touch is gentle as she carefully cleans up Aaron’s knuckles. 

He tips his head back slightly, closing his eyes in exasperation, but Robert, for once, is in agreement with Chas. He’s tempted to scare the hell out of Lachlan himself now he knows what he said, but he knows getting locked up won’t do much to help Aaron. He doubts a chat with Chrissie will do the trick; she’s never had much control over Lachlan. But it’s something, at least. And he reckons Cain throwing his weight around might actually make Lachlan shit his trousers enough to wind his neck in.

Once Chas has finished cleaning up and bandaging Aaron’s hand, she sits back. “Right,” she says firmly. “I get it. I know you were upset. But next time, you talk to us, yeah? Don’t go smashing yourself up because you’re angry.”

“Mum -.”

“I mean it, Aaron. I can’t watch you hurt yourself. Not again.”

He swallows and nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Chas shakes her head. “Come here.” She pulls him into a hug, smoothing her hand over the back of his head. 

Cain pushes away from the wall. “You know,” he says quietly. “A few years ago, you would’ve been scrapping with that runt the moment he opened his gob. But you tried to walk away. I’m proud of ya, lad.”

Aaron shrugs, pulling away from Chas to run his hand under his nose. “He’s a kid. I’d rather not do time for kicking his head in, even if he deserves it.”

Cain nods. “Right. I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

Robert starts to get to his feet, opening his mouth to ask Cain to hang around, but Aaron catches his eye and shakes his head. Cain heads out and Chas puts the kettle on to boil, grabbing three mugs. Before she can open the tin of teabags, however, Charity shouts for her, and she sighs.

“I won’t be long,” she promises.

Aaron sighs. “Mum, it’s fine. I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

She gives him a dubious look on her way out. The door closes behind her and Robert looks at Aaron.

“Why didn’t you let me ask Cain to stay? We need to talk to him about Shane.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Not now. He’s all wound up over Lachlan. We go telling him now and he’ll lose it. We’ll talk to him later, when he’s calmed down.”

Robert frowns, but doesn’t argue. Aaron knows his uncle a lot better than Robert does. He leans back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair.

“I can’t believe he said that to you,” he says, then pauses before amending, “Well, no, I can. He’s a nasty little shit.”

“I’ll get over it,” Aaron mutters. “S’just words, innit?”

“Your hand says otherwise.”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Yeah, I lost it. But I’m fine. Lachlan isn’t worth the hassle.”

“No. But I reckon your mum should have a chat with Chrissie. I’m sick of that brat walking around here getting away with anything.”

Aaron shrugs. “Not our problem, Rob.”

“Not now. But Lachlan likes to be _everyone’s_ problem, given half the chance.”

“Just…drop it, yeah? I’m not in the right headspace for all this. I just want to forget about it.” 

“Alright,” Robert agrees. “Then how about I order in a takeaway and we can download a film? Have a night in?”

Aaron pulls a face. “I promised Adam I’d meet him in town for a pint.”

“I can come with you, if ya like,” he offers.

“He’ll be going on about him and Vic trying for a baby.”

“Maybe not, then,” Robert says. The last thing he needs is to listen to Adam going on about his sex life with Robert’s sister. “But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Aaron nods. “Yeah. Thanks. For, you know.”

Robert cups Aaron’s jaw, kissing him gently. “I told ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here for you. Always.”

***

Vic looks as disgusted as Robert feels when he tells her about Lachlan.

“What a scrote,” she says. “He’s lucky Cain didn’t wipe the floor with him.”

“I wouldn’t have stopped him if he tried,” Robert admits. “Chas is having a word with Chrissie right now.”

She nods. “Reckon it’ll help?”

He shrugs. “No clue. Lachlan doesn’t exactly listen to her, does he? He doesn’t listen to anyone.”

Vic sighs, setting a cup of tea down in front of him. “Well, leave him be. Focus on Aaron, yeah?” 

Robert nods. “Cheers.”

She sits next to him on the couch, casually stealing the remote from where it had been resting on his knee. He grumbles but doesn’t argue when she starts flicking through channels, eventually settling on a back-to-back rerun of _Come Dine With Me_. For a few minutes, they watch in silence, sipping their tea. 

“I’ve made a decision,” Vic says after a moment. “About the investment.”

He glances over at her. “Yeah?”

“If the offer’s still there -.”

“It is,” he assures her. “I told ya, I won’t change my mind.”

“Then, yeah. I’d really appreciate it.” 

Robert smiles. “Brilliant. I’ll get the ball rolling tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Rob.” She pats his elbow. “Really. It means a lot to me.” 

“Well, anything I can do to get you out of that kitchen so you quit complaining to me about Marlon,” he teases.

She grins. “Nah, I’ll just be complaining about running my own business, instead.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Vic sets her empty mug down on the coffee table and scoots over so she can lean against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He hugs her with one arm.

“I’m happy,” she says quietly. “I never thought any of this would happen. All of us getting on, I mean. You and Andy being alright with each other. And I have Adam. Hopefully, we’ll have a little one on the way soon, and I’ll have my own business. And now you’re back with Aaron. It just all feels like it’s falling into place, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Robert murmurs. “I know what you mean.” 

She smiles, falling silent until the credits start to roll. Then, suddenly, she sits up and pats him solidly on the shoulder.

“Right,” she says. “Come on. Let’s grab a drink at the Woolie.”

“I was just gonna have a quiet night in,” he replies.

“Yeah, well, if Adam and Aaron are gonna have a pint in town, then I reckon we should have one in the local, rather than waiting around here. Come on. I’m buying.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, smiling slightly.

Rain pelts down on them when they step out of the house. It turns the lingering sea of ice to slippery sludge and beats a cacophony on the road and buildings, harmonised by the howling wind. Robert can feel it biting underneath his collar, icy cold and relentless, and he and Vic speed-walk towards the pub, careful of the ice. Robert clutches on to an umbrella, fighting with the wind to try and keep it above their heads, seeking as much protection from the slanting rain as possible.

“Hang on,” Vic says, voice raised to be heard over the wind. “Are those coppers?”

Robert squints. It’s dark out and the rain doesn’t help visibility, but the car parked in front of the Woolpack is definitely a police vehicle. His heart sinks into his chest.

“You reckon Chas lost it with Chrissie?” Vic asks. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I mean, it could be anyone,” she offers. “Charity, or one of the punters, even. Might have nothing to do with the Dingles.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, but he can’t bring himself to believe it. There’s a bad feeling gnawing away at his guts. “Here.” 

He shoves the umbrella into her hands and starts to sprint towards the pub, skidding slightly in the slippery slush on the ground. Soon, his hair is plastered to his head by the rain and he has to keep wiping it out of his eyes so he can see. He watches PCs Hurley and Grant step out of the pub, Chas right on their heels, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, and Robert’s bad feeling grows.

A taxi pulls up, tyres crackling in the ice. Robert stops as Aaron climbs out, a dark scowl on his face as he hands some cash to the driver. Even in the darkness, the bruise on his face is visible, and he casts a single glance at Robert before looking at the officers now approaching him.

To Robert’s dismay, Aaron doesn’t look surprised to see the police at the pub. He just heaves a visible sigh and tips his head back slightly, resigned.

“I know I said we’d be seeing you soon,” PC Grant remarks, smug. “But twenty-four hours? That’s got to be a record, even for a Dingle.”

“Hold on,” Robert says, moving closer. “You can’t do this. I told ya, he was with me the night of the robbery. You can’t -.”

“This isn’t about the robbery,” PC Hurley cuts him off. “I suggest you step back, sir.”

“Aaron Dingle,” Grant starts. “I am arresting you on suspicion of assault -.”

“Assault?” Robert repeats incredulously.

“No, hold on,” Chas adds, marching over. “He hasn’t done anything! You can’t just arrest him.” 

PC Hurley holds up a hand, a silent warning for Chas to keep back, as Grant puts Aaron in handcuffs and continues reading him his rights. Aaron is silent, unresponsive except to nod once when he’s asked if he understands. He cooperates as PC Grant guides him into the back of the police car.

“Aaron,” Chas calls. “It’s gonna be alright, love. We’ll be right behind you, I promise. It’ll be okay.”

Robert tries to look into the car, tries to get Aaron to look at him. But Aaron stares straight ahead, silent, his expression vacant.

***

They linger just long enough for Chas to grab her coat. Robert drives them to the station and they half-tumble inside, drenched from the rain and breathless in their panic. The copper at the desk glances up at them, unimpressed.

“Aaron Dingle,” Chas demands. 

He consults his computer. “Take a seat,” he suggests blandly. “It’ll be a while.”

Chas pulls a face, ready to play hell, but Robert catches her gently by the elbow, leading her over to the waiting area. She sits down heavily, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands. Robert starts to take the seat next to her, but then pushes back up to his feet and paces instead, rubbing at the back of his neck.

He doesn’t get it. Aaron had been a mess earlier, yeah, but he’d calmed down. He’d gone to town with Adam. And just hours later, he’s being arrested for assault. It doesn’t make any sense and Robert hates it, hates not being able to help, to _do_ anything. His damp shoes squeak on the floor as he turns sharply, pacing to the other end of the narrow space, and Chas looks up.

“I need to call a lawyer,” she says. “And Cain. And Adam. Whatever happened, Adam must have been there, right? He must know what’s going on.”

“I’ll do it,” Robert assures her. “You call the lawyer.”

She nods and digs into her pocket for her phone. Robert leaves her to it, stepping out into the small, square foyer between the outside doors and the interior ones. The cold wind seeps through the gaps in the doors, but it’s relatively quiet. Fishing his mobile out of his pocket, Robert finds Adam’s number and presses ‘call’, watching raindrops race down the glass doors as he listens to the call dialling out.

“I’m already on me way,” Adam says the second he answers, sounding breathless. “I’m sorry. He just – he took off. I got stuck in traffic, by the time I got back, he’d already been arrested. But I’m on my way to the station. They’ll wanna speak to me, I’m a witness.”

“A witness to _what_?” Robert demands. “Adam, what the hell happened? Aaron’s been arrested for assault.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“_Adam_!”

“Right. Look, mum’s pulling up outside now. Hang on.” The line goes dead.

Robert swears quietly, putting his phone back in his pocket. A minute later, he sees Adam jogging towards the station. He sprints up the steps and yanks open the door, joining Robert in the tiny foyer. Breathless and dripping rainwater everywhere, he pushes a hand through his hair.

“How is he?” 

“I don’t know. We haven’t been told anything yet.” Robert raises his eyebrows. “Well? What happened?”

“I dunno,” Adam admits. “Not really. We were having a pint and Shane turned up. He and Aaron went off to have a chat. I tried to follow, but Aaron weren’t having it, said whatever it was wouldn’t take a minute. So I waited, but then I saw them leave, so I followed. They were gone by the time I got outside the pub, but I found them in the alleyway round the corner, behind the bins.”

“Found who?” Robert demands.

“Aaron and some bloke. Shane wasn’t anywhere to be seen. But the guy, he was on the ground and he was bleeding. He’d taken a couple of nasty hits at least. Aaron was crouched over him. I asked him what had happened and he just took off. The bloke was ringing the police when I tried to chase after Aaron.”

“Bloody hell,” Robert mutters. “You reckon Aaron hit him?”

“I dunno. I don’t see why he would. But he just let the coppers arrest him?”

Robert nods, rubbing his hands over his face. Adam’s explanation doesn’t provide much more insight, except that, of course, Shane is involved. Robert doesn’t buy for a second that Aaron committed the assault, or if he did, that he hit the bloke for no reason. 

“Come on,” he says. “Chas is in here.”

Adam pushes inside the station in front of Robert. Chas is at the desk, talking to an officer, but she pushes away, looking exhausted and near despondent as she approaches Robert and Adam. Sinking heavily into one of the seats, her jaw wobbles for a second as she fights the need to cry.

“What?” Robert asks. “What have they said?”

“They’re saying he committed GBH,” she says quietly.

“What?” Adam demands, incredulous. “Hang on, that’s not on. He was hurt too. They have it all wrong, they must have.”

Chas shrugs. “According to them, he used unreasonable force. But it gets worse.”

Robert swallows. “How?”

“When they got him here and searched him, they found drugs in his pocket. Spice.” 

Robert stops short, looking at her. Dread coils down his spine. He thinks about the packets of chewing gum in the office at the scrapyard, thinks about the bags of spice Aaron admitted to holding on to for Shane. But there’s no way he’d have some on him, that he’d go out into town with spice in his pocket. Aaron isn’t that stupid.

“Spice,” Adam repeats. “What, Aaron? There’s no way. It must have been planted or something. There’s no way -.”

“He was dealing,” Chas cuts him off. Her voice sounds empty, drained. “Years ago, when Gordon chucked him out onto the streets, before I found him and dragged him home with me. He was involved with this dodgy family, acting as a drug mule for them. But he was done with all of that. He can’t be involved in drugs again, he’s not that stupid.” She pauses, then sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “He’d better not be, anyway. Or I’ll bloody kill him.”

“He’ll be okay,” Robert says quietly. “Whatever’s happened, we’ll sort it. He’ll be okay, Chas.”

She shakes her head, getting to her feet. “I need to call the lawyer.” 

Robert watches her step outside to make the phonecall. Adam sits down, knee starting to bounce as he leans forward, his anxiety written across his face. Robert still can’t bring himself to sit down. Dread and anger fills him with adrenaline. Every second that Aaron is back there, alone as he talks to the police, facing charges for assault and possession of drugs, has Robert’s fear growing. He resumes pacing, keeping an eye on the desk, waiting impatiently for any kind of news. 

When Chas joins them again, she looks even more weary than before. Robert watches her sink down onto one of the seats, folding into herself.

“Well?” he prompts.

“Lawyer’s on his way,” she says quietly. “But he says…”

“What?” Adam asks. “He says what?”

“He’s looking at five years max for wounding without intent and another five for being in possession of class B drugs.” Chas rubs her hands over her face. “Ten years, Robert. _Ten years_. Even if he gets out early for good behaviour, that’s still years he’ll be behind bars.”

Robert tastes ash in his throat. “Okay. Okay, but we don’t know that he’ll face those charges.”

“Don’t we? We have no idea what he’s saying to them in there.”

“Right. But ten years, that’s – that’s the max, isn’t it?” He tries. “It might not be that bad.”

She shakes her head. “They’re not going to be lenient on him, love.”

“You don’t know that,” he insists.

Chas looks up, meeting his gaze. “Except that I do,” she says quietly. “He’s had plenty of warnings and cautions in the past. He was given community payback for assault. He was acquitted for murder. Then he was given a suspended sentence for skipping bail and perverting the course of justice. And _then_ he was banged up for another murder. Just ‘cause they let him go doesn’t mean they won’t hold it against him.” She sighs, running a shaking hand through her hair. “Besides, he’s a Dingle. He’s got no chance.”

Robert closes his eyes for a moment. Her hopelessness seeps towards him, tries to pull him under too, but he can’t. He can’t give up on Aaron, can’t just let this happen. He doesn’t know what happened, but he’s certain Aaron doesn’t deserve the charges he’s facing. 

“We’ll sort it,” he promises fiercely.

Chas’s face crumples. “I know my boy, Robert. He won’t be able to handle it. Being back in there, he – he won’t survive it.”

“Yeah, he will,” Adam argues. “He’s got us.”

“But that means nothing in there,” she snaps. “It’ll destroy him.” She gets to her feet, crowding close to Robert, her voice low as she says, “I need you to fix it, Robert. Whatever it takes.”

Robert swallows and reaches out, gripping her shoulders gently. “Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t ask me that again, not after last time. After the way you treated me that time, do you really think you have the right to ask me again?”

“You have contacts,” she insists. “You have money.”

“It nearly ruined everything,” he reminds her. “Chas, no. We play by the book this time, follow the rules. You’re right, I have money, and I’ll use it to get him the best damn lawyer possible. I’ll fix this, Chas. But this time, I’ll do it legally. You got it?”

She reaches up, curling trembling fingers around his wrists. “Thank you.”

Wordlessly, he lets her sag into him, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. She clings to him, desperate and heartbroken, and he can feel his own grief burning behind his ribs, can feel his own frustration at the situation. Rubbing her back soothingly, he closes his eyes.

It seems like forever before PC Grant steps out from the back. Chas pulls away from Robert just as Cain marches inside, looking between them all. Chas holds up a hand towards him, stopping his demand for information, her gaze snapping to PC Grant.

“Well?” she says, voice wobbling slightly.

“Mr Dingle confessed to everything,” he replies evenly. “He’ll be held here tonight and will be up in the Magistrates court tomorrow.”

“Oh god, no,” Chas whispers.

“Can we see him?” Cain demands.

“No. It’s best you go home.” PC Grant crosses his arms. “He’ll be at the court for ten tomorrow.”

He leaves it at that, clearly pleased with himself as he disappears again, and Cain starts questioning Adam, trying to dig more information from him. Chas just slumps and Robert catches hold of her shoulders, keeping her upright with an arm around her.

“I’ll fix this,” he repeats.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: discussion of self-harm and cuts; mention of suicide and past suicide attempts.

“Come on. Come on, Aaron, just look at me. _Look at me_.”

Chas’s voice is low and desperate, her hands twisting together as she stares down at her son, but he doesn’t glance back at them. From the moment he’d been lead into the court, he hasn’t looked once at any of them; his gaze is fixed firmly, blankly ahead. 

Robert’s stomach is in knots. He has no idea what Aaron is thinking and he hates it, hates not being able to help, to take control of the situation. Aaron’s solicitor murmurs quietly to him and Aaron nods slightly, but Robert doesn’t feel much hope. Aaron confessed; this is a plea hearing, not a trial. He’s got no chance.

Unsurprisingly, the whole thing is quick and succinct. The judge runs blandly through the charges, pausing only for Aaron to confirm or to assert his understanding. Robert already knows how Aaron is going to plea, but when he says, flat and devoid of emotion, “Guilty”, frustration still sears through him. He wants this to be done already so he can finally get to talk to Aaron, to find out exactly what happened and try and talk some sense into him. Whatever sentence the judge hands out to him, they’ll deal with it together, and appeal if necessary.

None of them expect, however, for the judge to pass the sentencing over to Crown Court, with a date set for over a week away. 

Robert exchanges a glance with Chas, then leans forward, hands tight around the railing in front of him. He stares at Aaron, silently pleading with him to turn, to look back just once so that he knows Robert is there, so that Robert can see his face properly. Meanwhile, the judge drones on.

“ – you will be held at HMP Hotten until the date of sentencing,” he says. 

“No,” Chas mutters quietly. “No, no, no. This isn’t right. This isn’t _fair_.”

“Chas,” Cain warns, reaching over to place his hand on her wrist. 

As Aaron’s lead away, Robert gets to his feet. Next to him, Chas calls out, shouting her son’s name, and Aaron’s shoulders tense and his step falters, but he doesn’t look back at them. Robert feels sick, shock and anger coiling tight and heavy inside him.

“I don’t believe this,” Cain says, ushering Chas out of the court. “Crown Court, it’s bloody ridiculous.”

Robert doesn’t say a word as the two of them talk, frustration thick in the air. Instead, he waits in the hallway, and the second he sees Aaron’s solicitor, he pushes away from the wall. She lifts her hands up, warding off the influx she knows is coming.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But Aaron knew this was a possibility, given his record and the seriousness of his crime.”

“It’s not right,” Chas insists. “He’s bruised, for God’s sake!”

“I know,” she agrees. “Look, we’ll have the chance at Crown Court to make a case for him when it comes to sentencing. I don’t believe a harsh sentence for GBH is fair; the injuries Aaron sustained supports his statement that it was a fight, not an assault, and that he was defending himself.”

Robert frowns. “What _did_ he say to the police?”

“Simply that he bumped into the victim, who started a row and hit him, so he defended himself. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the victim’s injuries and the drugs that were found on Aaron, he is still looking at a prison sentence.”

Chas shakes her head. “Who is this bloke, anyway? Where did Shane get to?”

“Aaron hasn’t said anything about Shane McCormac,” the solicitor replies. She hesitates, then adds, “The victim is a known drug dealer. He said in his statement that he wasn’t making a deal with Aaron and no drugs were found on him. But -.”

“But why would a known drug dealer ring the coppers,” Cain finishes, frowning. “Over getting knocked around a bit?”

“He wouldn’t,” Robert says. “Unless he was doing a favour for someone.”

“You reckon it was a set-up?” Chas demands. “Hold on, if you’re right, then we need to sort this. Aaron can’t do time for something he didn’t do!”

Robert thinks about Shane’s face yesterday, the rage and spite in his voice as he rowed with Aaron. The thought of him setting Aaron up doesn’t seem far-fetched in the slightest.

“We have no evidence,” the solicitor says. “Aaron’s statement holds up with what the victim said. He’s confessed. The best I can do is argue for a reduced sentence given his guilty plea and the evidence that it was a fight rather than an assault.”

Chas swears loudly and Cain puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. The solicitor offers them a polite smile and slips past them, heels clicking as she disappears down the stairs. Robert pushes a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. He’s trying to think of ways to fix this, to get Aaron out of this situation, but he can’t. Aaron confessed and they have no proof that it was a set up. Even if they _could_ prove it, getting Shane locked up could have bad consequences, for Aaron, for all of them.

His money, his contacts, all of it, _none_ of it is helpful right now and he hates it. He hates feeling powerless.

“Oi, sunshine,” Cain catches his attention. “I think you and me need a little chat, don’t you?”

Sighing, Robert nods. He watches as Chas follows Paddy down the stairs, her expression completely crushed. Once it’s just the two of them, plus Adam, Cain rubs a hand over his mouth, then crosses his arms over his chest, staring Robert down.

“You know something,” he accuses lowly.

“We were gonna tell you,” Robert replies. “I only found out the other day. I tried to tell you after the thing with Lachlan, but Aaron wanted to wait.”

Cain’s expression darkens. “Tell me what?”

“Shane’s a McCormac. He’s been threatening Aaron. He looked out from him in prison, stopped him from taking a beating, so now he reckons Aaron owes him. He threatened him and all of his family unless he stuck by Shane.” Robert pauses as a couple of lawyers walk past, then adds, “He’s been holding drugs for Shane. He was involved in that robbery I gave him an alibi for.”

Cain’s eyes light up with cold anger. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looks away. Adam cups the back of his neck, expression tightening.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he says. “Shane. I’m gonna kill him for this.”

“Oi,” Cain snaps, catching Adam’s elbow in a harsh grip. “You’re not gonna do _anything_, you dimwit.”

“We can’t just let him get away with this!” Adam insists.

“We’re not,” Cain replies, voice muted and colder than a blade. “But you go off on one and you’ll end up in hospital. Don’t be stupid.”

He scowls. “What’s it to you what I do?” 

“’Cause Aaron isn’t gonna be around for a bit, is he?” Cain bites out. “Which means it’s now my job to look out for ya on his behalf. So shut up and do what I tell ya. Getting your head kicked in won’t help Aaron. It’ll just make things worse.”

Adam’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t argue, and Cain releases his arm, pulling away with a sharp exhale. Robert catches his gaze.

“So?” he asks. “What _are_ we gonna do?”

“Idiots,” he mutters. “The both of ya. You should have come to me sooner.”

“Hang on, I _wanted_ to. I convinced Aaron that he should tell you.” 

“Idiots,” Cain repeats. “I know the McCormacs. I did a few jobs with one of ‘em a few years back. If you’d come to me sooner, I could’ve sorted this before it got out of hand.”

“What’s the plan?” Robert demands.

“I’m gonna talk to them,” he replies. 

“Yeah, ‘cause threatening them, that’s gonna do Aaron a world of good behind bars, isn’t it?” Robert points out coolly.

“I said talk and I _meant_ talk,” Cain shoots back. “That family owes me a couple of favours. I reckon it’s about time I called them in.”

***

“How’s Aaron?”

Robert sighs, gaze dropping to the surface of the bar. It’s been clean and polished, the wood gleaming and smooth under the palms of his hands.

“Dunno,” he answers. “We didn’t get to speak to him.”

Vic frowns. “Well, how’d he look?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t even glance at us,” he replies. “He just seemed…”

“What?”

“Empty.”

She swallows. “Well, Aaron’s strong. He’s been through so much and got through it. He’s a survivor.”

Robert looks down at his hands. He thinks about Aaron, thinks about the cuts on his arms and stomach and chest, thinks about him pale and sweating and shaking, consumed by blood poisoning and half-ready to just let it happen. He thinks about the difference between surviving and coping, thinks about the way Aaron bottles things up and turns it all on himself in order to make it through to the other side.

Aaron _is_ a survivor. He’s the strongest person Robert knows. He has the scars to prove it. But that doesn’t help when Robert’s got the image stuck in his head of Aaron sat alone in a cell, turning a filthy piece of metal over and over between his fingers, contemplating every single, awful thing that Robert isn’t there to talk him out of.  
Leather creaks as a body leans against the bar next to him. Robert glances at Cain, straightening slightly.

“Well?” 

“I spoke to my old mate, Grant. Turns out he’s Shane’s dad.” 

“And?” Robert presses, impatient.

Cain slants him a look. “And he didn’t have much to say about his boy. Apparently, Shane’s a bit of a black sheep in the family these days. He grassed up his cousin to save his own skin and got him locked up, so most of the family have turned their backs on him. Grant included.”

Hope unfurls in Robert’s chest. “So he’s on his own, then? No family to retaliate up if we expose Shane’s set up?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cain warns. “The McCormacs are big on family and sticking up for their own. They won’t let him get sent down.” 

He rubs a hand over his face, frustrated. “Then, what? What _can_ we do?”

“Grant’s an old fashioned kind of bloke. He’s a nasty little weasel who’ll cheat and screw you over for a couple of quid in his pocket. But he’s all about fair fights and letting men sort it out once and for all. However it turns out, once it’s done, it’s done. He’ll make sure of it.”

Robert scowls. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that for now, there’s nowt we can do. We just have to support Aaron.”

“We can’t just let Shane get away with this.”

“We’re not,” Cain snaps. “But we have to be patient. I thought you were good at that.”

“I am. Except when the man I love is facing prison time for something he didn’t do. You know how bad it got last time he was in the nick.”

“Yeah, I do. And don’t go forgetting that it was ‘cause of _you_ he was in there that time.” 

Robert frowns. “That wasn’t my fault. Maybe you didn’t notice, but _I_ was the one who got shot. And I was the one who got him out.”

“Eventually,” Cain agrees coolly. “Look, just for once, listen and do what I tell ya. If you go off on your own trying to fix this, you’ll just make it worse. And it’ll be Aaron who pays the price for it, you got that? I’ve got it handled. We just have to _wait_.”

Robert isn’t happy about it. Of course he isn’t. The thought of waiting while Shane swans about, getting away with what he’s done, has his blood boiling. The thought of Aaron being given a prison sentence makes him feel sick. But it’s not like any of his own half-baked plans will work. If it was just him that would suffer the consequences, he wouldn’t care, but he can’t risk Aaron getting hurt or worse.

All he can do is listen to Cain. He doesn’t trust him in the slightest, but he _does_ trust that he’ll always look out for Aaron and will do anything to help him, just as Robert will. 

“Are there any McCormacs at Hotten prison?” he asks.

“Yeah. Kieron, Shane’s brother, and the cousin Grant mentioned,” Cain replies. “I doubt the cousin will give Aaron any grief on Shane’s behalf, but I dunno where Kieron stands when it comes to his brother. No point thinking about it now, though. Aaron might not even go to Hotten.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, they might want to move him to another prison,” he points out. 

Robert hadn’t even considered that possibility. The idea of Aaron being transferred somewhere else, somewhere far away from his home and his family, from _Robert_, makes his heart sink into his gut, grief splintering inside of him. 

Cain must see it on his face, because he warns, “Easy. Just stick to the plan, yeah?”

Robert doesn’t even know what the plan _is_, just that he apparently has to keep his mouth shut, wait, and try and ignore Shane’s presence in the village for the time being. It sounds a lot easier than he knows it will be. 

But he nods in agreement, nodding again when Cain stares him down, making sure that Robert won’t cock this up for all of them. 

No matter how difficult it is, Robert’s determined to do whatever he has to, even if it means taking a backseat and reluctantly trusting Cain on this. He has to do it. 

For Aaron.

***

He doesn’t get to visit Aaron before the sentencing.

Chas goes once, with Cain with her for support. Robert doesn’t know about it until they return to the pub after; he’s sat by the fire, going over the accounts for the scrapyard, picking at the chips Vic had brought to him earlier, when the two of them march inside. 

Robert glances up and Chas catches his eye, then pauses. Waving Cain on, she changes direction to approach Robert’s table.

“We’ve just seen Aaron,” she says quietly.

It stings. He knows it isn’t fair; she’s Aaron’s mum, of course she’s going to get a visit, and of course Aaron is going to _want_ her to visit. But it hurts when his own visit request was denied for some unspecified reason. It hurts that he didn’t know.

“I meant to tell ya,” she adds carefully. “We only got the approval yesterday.”

It’s not an apology, but Chas isn’t generous with those, and definitely not with him. He reckons she doesn’t really owe him one anyway. The fact that she’s being civil and actually approaching him to talk about Aaron is more than enough.

“How’s he doing?” Robert asks.

She sighs, peeling off her coat and gloves. Dropping down into the chair opposite him, she answers, “About as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“Did he…” he hesitates, feeling a little childish, but he needs to know. “Did he mention me at all?”

Chas’s expression softens slightly. “No, love,” she replies. “But he didn’t say much of anything, really.” 

“He’s spiralling, isn’t he?”

“He’ll be okay,” she tries to reassure him. “He’s not given up, I don’t think. And he’s strong, you know that. He’s handling it.” 

Robert looks away. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Aaron can handle it. He doubts there’s _anything_ that Aaron couldn’t face. No matter what it is, no matter how bleak or hopeless or dark his situation is, Aaron’s got the strength, determination and sheer fucking stubbornness to fight his way through it, to walk through hell and back and come back still fighting on the other side. But that doesn’t mean he’ll come through it unscathed.

“I’m worried,” he admits.

“Welcome to the club,” Chas replies with a wry twist of her lips. “The thing about Aaron…when you care about him, when you _love_ him, you’re in for a lifetime of carefully compartmentalised, constant worry.”

“I know,” he agrees. “But I think that, maybe, with some proper help, it might not be a lifetime. I think maybe he was getting there, after Gordon got sent down, but now, with all of this…I don’t want him to go back to square one.”

“Neither do I. But there’s not a whole lot we can do about that right now. All we can do is support him.”

Robert nods. He hesitates, then asks, “If he calls, or you get another visit…will you let him know that I’d like to go see him? That I miss him?”

“’Course,” she replies, and it’s a testament to how much she’s willing to forgive and just what she’s willing to do for Aaron’s sake that she agrees so easily. 

Aaron doesn’t call him once. It hurts, but at the same time, it’s not entirely unexpected. Aaron is unpredictable by nature, but there are certain things about him that _can_ be anticipated, and one of those things is his unerring ability to isolate himself when he’s hurting and doesn’t want his struggle to bleed into other people’s lives. Robert isn’t surprised at the lack of contact. He isn’t frustrated, either; if anything, each day that passes with no communication feeds into a calm, coldly focused state of patience and determination. 

Because he doesn’t give up that easily, especially when it comes to the people he cares about. He never has and he never will, and Aaron, from the moment Robert first kissed him, quickly became one of the people Robert cares about the most. It used to terrify him, but not anymore; now, that intensity of feeling towards Aaron is exactly what he needs to cope with the situation.

***

The day before the sentencing at Crown Court, Liv shows up at the pub.

Robert’s sat with Adam and Cain, silent as the two of them discuss how they’re going to support Chas tomorrow, how they’ll stop her from falling apart if the result isn’t good, when the main door swings open and Liv marches inside, a backpack slung over her shoulder. 

Chas looks up from the magazine she’s not so discreetly flipping through behind the bar and a frown fractures her expression.

“What are you doing here?”

Liv rolls her eyes. “I fancied a bit of a holiday,” she replies. The quick sarcasm in her voice is unnervingly similar to Aaron’s brand of snarkiness. “What do you think?”

“Does your mum know you’re here?” Chas demands.

“I left her a note.”

“Oh, brilliant. Wonderful. That’s just what we need. Your mum is going to kill me.” 

Liv scowls. “My brother is gonna be sentenced to prison tomorrow. I don’t care what anybody says. I’m going to be there.” She pauses, then adds, quieter, “I _need_ to be there, Chas.”

She softens. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I know, love. I’m sorry.”

Robert gets to his feet, moving to stand next to Liv at the bar. “Better give Sandra a call,” he suggests to Chas. 

She nods, digging her phone out of her pocket, but then she pauses, pointing a finger at Liv. “Have you eaten?”

“I had a chocolate bar on the coach.”

Chas shakes her head. “I’ll ask Marlon to fix you something.” She glances at Robert. “Do me a favour and get her a drink, yeah?”

“I’ll have a pint,” Liv says. They both look at her and she tries, “A half-pint?”

“Try again,” Robert recommends mildly.

She sighs. “Fine. Can I have a coke?”

“Behave, young lady,” Chas says, but there’s fondness in her voice; Liv is Aaron’s sister and a lot like he used to be, and if that wasn’t enough for Chas to love her, the fact that her bolshie teenage stubbornness reminds her of herself definitely is.

As Chas ducks out the back to call Sandra, Robert rounds the bar and grabs a glass, filling it with ice and Coke. He sets it on the bar and Liv lets her backpack slide down her arm to drop to the floor with a heavy _thud_. She sits on one of the stools and slouches slightly, trying to look casual and unbothered, but Robert can see the circles under her eyes, the tiredness scrawled across her features.

“He’ll be okay, you know,” he offers.

“Will he?” she asks bluntly. “What if he gets sent down? What if he gets _years_ behind bars? What then?”

“Then we’ll appeal,” Robert promises. “I can afford a good lawyer. We’ll appeal. And we’ll support him.” 

“I know about his scars,” she says quietly. “I know what they mean. What if…”

“We’ll support him,” he repeats firmly. “He’s not alone, Liv. He’s got us, all of us.”

She looks down at her glass of Coke, wobbling it so the ice rattles. “He’s my brother,” she says. “I’ve only just found him again. And I…I found my dad, and look what he turned out to be. I lost him, but I suppose I never really had him, not really. He wasn’t a dad. He was a sick bastard. But I have Aaron. I finally got my brother back and he’s brilliant. He looks out for me. He doesn’t treat me like some dumb little kid like my mum does. He’s my best mate. And now I might lose him and all.” 

“You won’t lose him,” Robert promises firmly. “Aaron won’t let that happen, you know that. You’ll be able to see him.”

“What if he tops himself?”

The bluntness of her question catches Robert off guard, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. She’s fourteen and she’s sharp; she’s got that same quick, observant astuteness as Aaron, the kind that doesn’t necessarily translate well academically but is a force to be reckoned with. Of course she suspects about Aaron’s past, of course she sees the same danger ahead that Robert and Chas do. 

“He won’t,” he answers and his tone is harsher than he intends, sharpened by his own concern. 

Liv, thankfully, brushes it off. “You sure about that?”

“We’ll make sure of it,” he replies. “All of us.”

She eyes him for a moment, but seems to accept his answer. He isn’t foolish enough to think for a second that her worry has been abated, but for now, reassurance is all he can offer. She takes a sip of her drink, then runs a fingernail over the outside of the glass, drawing a thin pattern in the condensation. 

“You and him,” she says. “You’re together, aren’t ya?”

Robert hesitates. “We were. For about a day.” 

She frowns. “You broke up?”

“No. I hope not, anyway.” He sighs. “I think we’re still together, but I don’t know, not really. He won’t talk to me.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause he’s an idiot,” she says bluntly. “And a bit of a prat.”

He huffs a slight laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, he is a bit.”

“He loves ya. I know he does.” She looks at him, gaze searching his expression. “You won’t give up on him, though? Even though he’s an idiot?”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” he replies honestly. “I love him.”

She nods. “Good. But if you hurt him, you’ll have me to deal with, alright?”

Robert bites back a smile. “Noted. But I’m not going to, not again. Never again. He’s everything.”

“Ugh,” she says. “Alright, alright. Dial it back a bit, mate. Gross.” 

He laughs. It feels good to laugh, to have some of that pressure in his chest eased a little, if only for the time being. She smiles back, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. 

Chas joins them again, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Right,” she says. “Your mum isn’t very happy with you. You’re in big trouble.”

“He’s my brother,” Liv protests, scowling. “He’s been there for me. During the trial, through everything. Now I’m going to be there for him. You can’t stop me.”

“No one is going to,” Chas says quickly, hands lifting slightly. “But you can’t just take off without telling anyone. Your mum was really worried.”

She shrugs. “I left a note.”

Chas pulls a face. “Yeah, not exactly ideal, love. But your mum understands. She’s going to pick you up tomorrow, after the sentencing, okay? You can stop here until then.” 

Liv relaxes. “Thanks,” she says quietly. 

“You’re family,” she replies. There’s a firmness in her voice that brooks no argument. “It’ll mean a lot to Aaron that you’re there for him. And -.” She stops, hesitating for a moment before she adds, gently, “If the worst happens tomorrow, you know you’re welcome to stay here anytime so you can visit Aaron. Your mum’s agreed to that, too.”

Liv’s expression goes pinched at the thought of the worst happening, but she nods. “Thanks,” she repeats, her voice suspiciously thick, and she ducks her head to hide unshed tears.

Chas reaches over the bar, giving her a brief, warm hug. Robert watches them for a moment, then glances over at Cain and Adam. He knows they’ll be there tomorrow, too, with Paddy and, knowing the Dingles, most of the rest of the clan, too. 

No matter what happens, Aaron won’t be alone.

***

They arrive at the court early.

Robert had been right; along with Chas and Cain, Zak, Lisa, Debbie, Sam, Belle, Marlon, and Charity have shown up too, as well as Paddy and Rhona, and Adam and Vic. Chas had decided to shut the pub for a half-day so everyone could attend. 

He knows that their presence will have no bearing on the sentence, but he hopes seeing them all there for him, supporting him, will show Aaron that he’s not alone. That, even if the worst happens, he still won’t be alone, no matter what.

Vic reaches out as they march up the stairs like the world’s grimmest conga line, gently squeezing his elbow in silent support. On her other side, Adam is tense, expression torn between resigned and hopeful. 

They fill the benches in the gallery. The courtroom is silent except for the creak of the seats and rustle of clothing. Behind him, Robert can hear Belle whispering something to Debbie, concern threading through her voice. Next to him, Liv starts bouncing her knee slightly, chewing on her thumbnail. He reaches out, resting a hand on her shoulder, and it seems to help anchor her slightly. 

It feels like forever before Aaron is lead into the courtroom by a bailiff. He’s dressed in his sharp navy suit, hair neatly styled with gel, but he looks pale and withdrawn. He doesn’t look up at the gallery and to Robert’s left, Chas squeezes her hands into fists on her lap, begging under her breath for him to just glance back at them, even for a second, so she can see him. Rhona leans forward, resting a hand on Chas’s shoulder to comfort her.

The hearing doesn’t take long. Aaron’s solicitor makes her argument for a fair sentence, presenting her submissions for why he deserves a reduced sentence, and she’s good, _really_ good, well worth the money Robert’s spending on her. The Crown prosecutor occasionally puts forward a rebuttal and Robert can feel himself getting frustrated because it isn’t right, it isn’t _fair_. He watches the judge closely, observing every minute change in her calm, patient disposition, his belly tied up in knots.

The judge announces a break while she comes to a decision. Robert grits his teeth, wishes that it would just be _over_ already, but, logically, he knows that the longer she spends making a decision, hopefully, the fairer it will be. He follows the others out of the courtroom. Tiredness clings to his bones; he hadn’t slept well the night before and, even though the hearing had taken less than an hour, it feels like forever to him when he has a tight ball of worry in his chest, the swelling pressure crushing his lungs into his ribs. 

“What do you reckon?” Chas asks. 

Cain shrugs. “No way of telling, really, is there?” he replies. 

“Aaron’s a strong lad,” Marlon offers. “He’ll be alright.”

Liv pulls apart from the group, walking away. Robert takes a step to follow, concerned, but Belle shakes her head.

“I’ve got it,” she says.

Robert watches her go and knows she’s the right person to talk to Liv; they’re not that different in age, and Belle’s been through enough of her own struggles to comfort her. The rest of them wait, spilling over numerous seating areas, quiet and tense. Zak tries to make a joke to lighten the atmosphere and there’s a couple of polite, grim chuckles, quickly smothered by the tension in the air. 

It feels like a bloody wake. Robert can’t stand it. He ends up on his feet, pacing the area in short snaps, staring at the clock. He counts down every tiny tick of the hands, ignoring the muttered conversations around him, until, finally, they’re all called back into the courtroom.

This time, when Aaron’s lead in by a bailiff, he glances up at the gallery. Then he pauses, does a double-take, stares at them all sat there before his gaze finds Liv. She offers him a small, watery smile and he returns it, tight and worried but full of warmth. The sight of it feels like sunshine after a week of rain. 

Robert listens impatiently as the judge runs through everything, giving credence to the arguments given by Aaron’s solicitor and the request to consider a combined sentence for both crimes rather than giving consecutive convictions. 

“With those considerations,” she says. “I hereby sentence you to twelve months, reduced to eight, with the possibility of parole once you’ve served half your sentence.”

Next to Robert, Chas releases a shaky breath, her head dropping forward. He can sense the relief rippling through the rest of them, because with the possibility of a maximum sentence of ten years, the conviction could have been so much worse. His own relief is mingled with renewed concern. Eight months is still a long time behind bars, especially for Aaron. Even four months feels like forever, because it’s four months without Aaron, four months of Aaron being somewhere where Robert can’t help or protect him.

When it’s done, Aaron looks back at them all again. His expression gives nothing away, but Robert can see how he’s gone even paler, can see the slight shine in his eyes. But he’s trying to hide it, trying to look strong and reassuring for his mum and for Liv, and he offers a small smile before he’s lead away by the bailiff.

The gallery is cleared quickly. Outside, most of the Dingle clan burst into conversation, discussing the sentence, but Cain is focused on Chas, pulling her into a comforting hug. Vic leans against Adam’s side, trying to reassure him. Robert looks around until he finds Liv.

“It could’ve been a lot worse,” she says. “Couldn’t it?”

He nods, trying to look reassuring. “Yeah. Yeah, it could’ve been.”

“When do you think we can see him?”

“I don’t know,” he replies. “We’ll have to wait to find out. But soon, I’m sure. It’ll be okay, Liv.”

“Will it?” she asks doubtfully.

Robert can’t quite bring himself to answer. He can’t give her any that will be completely truthful and it feels wrong to lie to her. Instead, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into the hug for a brief moment, accepting the comfort. When she pulls back, her expression has hardened, determination clear in her eyes.

“We’ll be here for him,” she says.

Robert nods.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: discussion of self-harm, including mention of cuts; discussion of Gordon (including derogatory language and insults from Lachlan); Lachlan (because I reckon he alone warrants a warning tbh); mention of suicide and suicidal ideation; prison; mention of drugs; discussion of violence; minor injuries; alcohol and harmless drunkenness.

_Your request has been declined_.

Robert stares at the email in frustration. It’s short and blunt, an automatic, impersonal response, and it doesn’t give any details, doesn’t tell him _why_ his visit request has been turned down. But then, he shouldn’t really be surprised; this is the third identical email he’s received in as many weeks. He should stop hoping that the response will change, but he can’t help himself. 

The first time he’d used the online system to request a visit, only to get an email declining it, he’d panicked, wondering if something had happened, whether Aaron was in some kind of trouble. Chas had calmed him down, gently informing him that her own request to visit with Liv had gone through. It became clear then that it isn’t the prison service’s decision to stop Robert from visiting.

It’s Aaron’s.

He’d half expected it. From the moment Aaron stepped into the courtroom the day of his sentencing and refused to look at any of them, Robert had suspected that this would be Aaron’s response: pushing Robert away because he’s so used to bottling things up. Expecting it doesn’t make it any less frustrating, though, but he isn’t going to give up. He knows exactly what he needs to do.

Sighing, he closes the email on his phone and opens up the request portal again, filling in the visitation form almost on automatic now, Aaron’s prison number memorised. Once he’s sent the request, he locks his phone and tucks it into his pocket, looking up just as Chas and Cain step into the pub, returning from their visit. 

Robert gets to his feet. “How is he?” 

They share a look before Cain answers, “He’s coping.”

“Coping,” he repeats. “Actually coping or _Aaron_ coping?”

“He’s coping,” Cain says again, firmer. “He’s doing alright.”

He leaves it at that, brushing past Robert to approach the bar. Charity wordlessly pulls him a pint, setting it in front of him. Chas offers Robert a small, understanding smile, looking a little awkward. 

“Did he mention me at all?” he asks.

She sighs. “Yeah, he did,” she replies, hesitating before she adds, “He asked me to tell you to stop asking to visit. He doesn’t want to see you.”

Robert nods slightly, running a hand over his jaw. “Did he mean it?”

“I don’t think so, no. But you know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, I do,” he agrees. “And he knows what I’m like. I’m not giving up on him.”

“Are you sure that’s the right thing to do?” she asks carefully. 

“What else can I do?” 

“I know. I know, love, you’re just trying to be there for him. I get it, I do. But just…just don’t put pressure on him, alright?” Chas looks away, pursing her lips for a moment. “He’s coping. But I can see how much holding it together is taking it out of him. Don’t push too hard.”

Robert shrugs slightly. He has no intention of making things worse for Aaron. He doesn’t want to be a factor in him falling apart in there. But he knows Aaron. He knows what it takes when it comes to him. When he’d pushed and antagonised and needled him when he’d struggled to cope after Katie, getting him to open up and talk to him instead of ignoring him; when he’d helped run the scrapyard during Aaron’s absence after going to the police about Gordon, proving that he was going to be there for him, no matter what. He knows when to push Aaron, when to be stubborn and refuse to give up, and he knows that this is one of those times.

“I’ve got it handled,” he promises her. “I won’t hurt him. You know that.”

“I do,” she agrees without hesitation, surprising him. “I’m more concerned about him hurting himself.”

“Don’t tell him that,” he advises. “If he thinks you might be going back to that same place as last time he was locked up, he’ll blame himself.”

“I know.” Chas shakes her head slightly. “I’m glad you’re here for him, Robert. Even though he’s not exactly making it easy right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replies easily. “I reckon Aaron knows it, too.”

***

A month and a half goes by. 

Robert applies to visit every single week. Each request gets shot down. Aaron doesn’t call him, either, despite him keeping his phone close in the evenings, hopeful. The initial frustration has dwindled, replaced by cool determination. It’s familiar, in a way; the game, the chase, the refusal to give up, no matter what. 

He gets updates on Aaron from Chas and, on a couple of occasions, Liv. Their answers don’t vary much; Aaron’s quiet, but coping. There’s little change week to week, but Robert supposes exciting news isn’t exactly a regular thing in prison, and he reckons no change is better than a change for the worst. So long as Aaron is keeping it together, then Robert’s satisfied.

Finally, though, his bull-headedness pays off. 

Aaron allows him a visit.

The acceptance and details only come through the day before the scheduled visit. Despite his determination that his stubbornness would pay off eventually, it’s still a jolt, still a surprise that Aaron gave in, and faster than Robert had actually anticipated. He has to cancel a lunch meeting and an afternoon he’d been due to spend at a client’s office in Leeds, but it’s worth it. After a month and a half of not seeing or hearing from Aaron, he’s _finally_ going to get to speak to him face-to-face, rather than passing along messages with Chas. 

He wakes up early, well before his alarm. Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in his chest and it’s ridiculous, really, how completely gone on Aaron he is, but it’s also incredible. It’s like nothing he’s felt before, at least not this intensely; he’d loved Katie, once, and he’d loved Chrissie, but what he feels for Aaron just can’t be compared. It’s remarkable.

He dresses in the grey jumper and leather jacket that he knows Aaron loves, and he swings by the pub to see Chas. When she sees the look on his face, she instantly knows the reason for it.

“So,” she says. “He finally gave in, then?”

“Yep.” 

“I knew he would. Tell him I miss him, yeah? And that me and Paddy will see him next week.”

“I will,” he promises. 

She smiles, offering him a friendly nod in gratitude, and Robert returns it. 

It’s sleeting out, the roads slippery, so he reckons it’s best to set off early, fully aware that between the shitty weather and the road works on the main road to Hotten, traffic will be a nightmare. He’s walking down the road towards Vic’s, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, when he catches movement from the corner of his eye. He glances over and inwardly sighs. 

“Off to visit your whore?” Lachlan asks casually.

He inhales deeply, exhales slowly, determined to not let anything spoil his good mood. Especially not a psychopath like Lachlan White. 

“Get lost, Lachlan,” he advises, tone mild.

Unsurprisingly, Lachlan ignores him. He falls into step next to him, the wind ruffling his hair, his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his own expensive wool coat. Grit crunches underneath their shoes as they walk, the only sound for a few seconds before Lachlan suddenly smiles, a nasty, smug little twist of his mouth that makes Robert want to punch it right off his face.

“I’m not surprised he got locked up again,” he remarks. “I mean, he’s that type of bloke, isn’t he? Vermin.”

Robert snorts. “Right,” he says. “’Cause you definitely don’t have a dodgy record, do you, Lachlan? I’m sure Aaron won’t lose any sleep over what a sex offender thinks of him.”

Lachlan scowls, lip curling into a sneer. “You know what? I reckon he’s happy in there, you know. Plenty of cock to go around, right? I mean, let’s face it. He’ll do great in there.” He leans closer. “Better be careful, Robert. He might find someone else to keep him warm at night while he’s behind bars.”

Robert shakes his head slightly. “Go home,” he suggests evenly. “I’m not gonna get into this with you, Lachlan. You can say whatever you like.”

He can see his words hit their mark; if there’s one thing Lachlan despises, it’s being ignored, or, worse, patronised and not taken seriously. His eyes go cold, lips thinning as he looks at Robert. Whatever he’s about to say next, Robert knows it will be vile, can see him calculating exactly what he’s going to say in his head. He’s the exact opposite of his mum in that regard; Chrissie can be harsh and she can be vindictive, but always in the heat of the moment, always in that burning, rash flare of anger and grief. Lachlan is colder and he’s deliberate; he’s calculated and cruel, and he enjoys it. He’s always enjoyed it. 

“I do have to hand it to you,” he says after a moment, smirking slightly. “You two are well suited, I’ll give you that. I mean, you’re both gold diggers. Both happy to whore yourselves out for cash. Yeah, but Aaron? He outdoes even you, and that’s really saying something. ‘Cause him? He let his daddy do whatever he wanted, then got him sent down, and earned quarter of a million from it. Now _that_ is some expert gold digging, isn’t it?”

The rage Robert feels is cold and startling in its intensity, cutting between his ribs and scraping down his spine. He looks at Lachlan and his hands ache with the urge to reach out, to wipe the nasty smirk off his face, to make sure he never opens his evil little mouth ever again.

Swallowing it back, Robert steps closer, until Lachlan has to tip his head slightly to hold Robert’s gaze. 

“You know what?” Robert murmurs, tone low and even. “You’re wasting your time. You can say whatever you like. I don’t care. ‘Cause I’ve got Aaron. I’m happy with him. I’ve got family and I’ve got friends. I’m doing great. You, though? Who have _you_ got, Lachlan? Daddy didn’t want you, did he? And I reckon it’s just a matter of time before Chrissie gets sick of you and all. You’ve got no mates, you’ve got nobody. ‘Cause you’re _nothing_. Just a sick little weirdo who no one wants to be around, and who can blame them? Look at ya. You’re pathetic.”

Lachlan’s cheeks burn red, humiliation and fury slashing, dark and ugly, across his face. His jaw goes tight and Robert can see it in his eyes, the urge to lash out, but he isn’t afraid. Not of Lachlan. So he just smiles, slow and smug, and looks Lachlan up and down in disdain before stepping back again.

“Good chat,” he says casually. “Now do one.”

He watches as Lachlan turns, posture harsh with rage, hands curled into fists. He shoves them into his pockets as he marches away, not looking back, and Robert shakes his head, brushing off the lingering anger and disgust from Lachlan’s words. Climbing into his car, he focuses instead on Aaron, on what he plans to say during this visit, and he turns on the heaters to chase away the chill on his skin.

He’d been right about the traffic, but he gets to the prison in plenty of time. The body search isn’t exactly fun, but, thankfully, the procedures don’t take forever, not like he’d expected after Adam’s complaints. However, just a couple of minutes before he’s due to go into the visitation room, a guard finds him, pulling him aside.

“What?” he demands, suspicion creeping down his spine. “Has something happened?”

“There’s been an incident,” the guard says carefully. 

“What kind of incident?”

He neatly dodges the question, instead saying, “You’ll still be able to see Mr Dingle today, but he won’t be here for another half hour or so.”

“Hang on, so we won’t get our full hour?”

“I’m afraid not, no.”

Robert frowns, heart sinking into his gut. It’s a relief to know that the visit hasn’t been cancelled entirely, but it’s frustrating, knowing that the visit will be so short. There’s not much he can do, though, and despite his urge to demand answers, he bites his questions back. There’s no point wasting time when he can find out from Aaron himself soon enough.

He’s lead into the room with the rest of the visitors and asked to sit at one of the tables. It’s small and metal, the chair uncomfortable. He tries not to look around at the others surrounding him, at the prisoners who _are_ here, seeing their loved ones. Instead, he distracts himself by getting up again, buying a coffee from the machine at the back of the room. 

The paper cup is thin, scalding his palms as he wraps his hands around it. The coffee is pretty crap, too; burnt and bitter. But he sips it anyway just to have something to do, something to quell his growing impatience. His knee bounces slightly under the table and he slouches his elbows, shoulders hunched as he waits.

Finally, he hears the metallic creak of the door sliding open. The second Aaron steps through, dismay slithers into Robert’s belly, curdling the coffee he’d just gulped down. The reason why Aaron’s late is pretty clear.

There’s a cut on his lip, raw and fresh looking, and his cheek is bruised a painful looking blue-black, smeared across his cheekbone. It’s swollen slightly, puffy, and Aaron casts a quick glance around at the other prisoners before his gaze lands on Robert. 

Robert’s on his feet before he really thinks about it, though he has no idea what he’s going to do, what he even _can_ do. All he knows is that he wants to get his hands on Aaron, wants to check him over and hold him. But Aaron gives a slight shake of his head and wordlessly sits down in the chair across the table, so Robert sinks back into his own again, swallowing back the anger and concern. 

Aaron slouches back in his seat, gazing at Robert for a long moment, expression unfathomable. 

“You’re a stubborn prat, you know that?” he finally says, tone calm as anything.

Robert shrugs. “It’s been said.”

Aaron shakes his head. “You just don’t give up, do ya?”

“Not really, no,” he agrees mildly. “ Especially when it comes to you.”

The honesty has Aaron’s gaze snapping to his again. He sighs, leaning forward slightly, scratching at his eyebrow. 

“I’m not your problem, Robert.”

He frowns. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“You don’t need to do this for me,” Aaron insists. “The solicitor, the visits, all of it. You shouldn’t be doing it. It ain’t right.” 

Robert looks at him for a long moment. He hadn’t argued about the boyfriend part. There’s a wisp of relief in Robert’s chest, a sense of pressure being suddenly removed; saying it out loud, meaning it wholeheartedly, it feels good, it feels _right_, and the fact that Aaron hadn’t rejected it feels even better.

“It is to me,” he says. “I want to do it. I want to get you out of here.”

“Robert -.”

“I love you.”

Aaron looks away. “You’ve said that before.”

“Yeah, and I meant it,” he replies firmly. “I still do.”

“I don’t _want_ you here, Robert,” Aaron says, tone brittle. “I don’t want ya visiting me.”

It should sting, but, somehow, it doesn’t. Robert just shakes his head. “You don’t mean that.”

Aaron scowls. “Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” he keeps his voice even. “I know you don’t. ‘Cause, like it or not, I know _you_.”

“You don’t.”

Robert almost rolls his eyes because even Aaron can’t manage to put much conviction into his voice. He knows well enough that Robert gets him, that he sees him, _all_ of him, and understands him. 

“I know you, Aaron,” he repeats. “I know that when you need people the most, you push them away.”

Aaron shakes his head. “You don’t know _anything_,” he bites out.

“I know that you think you’re doing me a favour. You reckon it’ll be better if I’m not with you, if you go through this alone ‘cause you don’t want to put me through it too.” Robert leans forward, catching and holding his gaze. “But that’s not a decision you get to make by yourself. I love you. I want to be here. I’m _going_ to be here. And you can try as hard as you like to push me away, but I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, Aaron just stares at him. Then he swallows, looking away. He doesn’t speak. Silence stretches between them and Robert’s painfully aware of how little time they have left, how soon he’ll have to say goodbye again after finally getting to see Aaron after weeks, but he doesn’t press Aaron. He knows when to push and when not to. This is one of the times when he shouldn’t.

Finally, Aaron mutters, “I would’ve died, ya know.”

That’s not what Robert had been expecting. He frowns. “What?”

“When he…when Gordon showed up.” Aaron inhales deeply, running a trembling hand across his face. “I don’t just mean when you took me to the hospital. I mean, even if I’d gone, I would have wound up topping myself. I know it. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t cope. Just seeing him again…I wanted to just not exist anymore. I wanted it all to stop. Even when I was trying to get him sent down…I was lost, Robert. I felt like I was drowning. And if you weren’t there, if you hadn’t stuck by me the way you did, I’d be dead right now. How do I ever repay you for that?”

Robert swallows. It hurts to think about that day at the scrapyard, how it had felt to see Aaron collapse right in front of him. He can still remember how heavy Aaron felt in his arms, how terrifying it was to see him barely conscious, barely responsive. The sight of that cut in his arm is seared into his brain. He wonders sometimes what would have happened if he hadn’t gone to the yard that day, if he’d even just been a few minutes late. The thought that he so easily could have failed back then, without even knowing it, is harrowing.

“I reckon I’m probably still owed a punch to the face, considering everything I put you through before that,” he points out softly. “Besides, you don’t have to repay me. I don’t want you to. I stood by you ‘cause I love ya, Aaron.”

“And this,” Aaron says, low and harsh. “_This_ is how I repay ya. By throwing it all back in your face. You shouldn’t be here, Robert. You shouldn’t be lonely and miserable and – and visiting me in prison ‘cause of my own stupid decisions. You deserve better than this.”

Robert shrugs. “Arguable,” he replies calmly. “Though, actually, yeah. You’re right. I don’t deserve ya. ‘Cause you’re amazing, Aaron. You’re strong and brave and – and so much more than that, than what I could ever deserve. But I’m not going anywhere, so stop trying to get rid of me. I love you, ya idiot. I spent too long running from it and cocking everything up to give up now. I. Love. You.”

He shakes his head, looking away. There are tears in his eyes, shining under the bright, artificial spill of light from the strip bulbs lining the ceiling, but he refuses to let them fall and Robert understands why. He can’t be vulnerable, not in a place like this. The knowledge that he’s having to bottle things up is disconcerting, even if it’s necessary.

“You don’t get what you’re letting yourself in for,” Aaron says quietly. “How can you be with someone who – who cuts himself to shreds? How are you gonna cope with worrying about me like that? It’s not healthy, Robert.”

“We’ll get through it,” he replies immediately. “Together. I’ll get you through this, Aaron. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, okay? Let me prove it to ya. I’ll be here, every visit I’m allowed. I’ll be there when you get out and I’ll be there the morning after, when you wake up in your own bed and you don’t know how to feel. I’ll be there. I swear.”

Aaron’s silent for a long moment, holding Robert’s gaze as he lets his words sink in. Finally, he nods, and Robert relaxes slightly, relieved. Underneath the table, he lets his hand find Aaron’s knee, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze before he lets go again. 

“So,” he says after a moment. “Spice.”

“I didn’t know I had it on me,” Aaron mutters. “Shane planted it, the bastard.”

He exhales slowly. “He hasn’t been round the village since. But I’m guessing this,” he gestures to Aaron’s face, “is thanks to him?”

“I’m fine. Don’t make a big deal out of it, yeah?”

“A big deal?” Robert repeats incredulously. “Aaron, look at the state of ya.”

“I’ve had worse.” Aaron’s gaze slides over Robert’s shoulder. “Just leave it.”

Robert glances behind him. He sees another prisoner sat a couple of tables away, glancing back at Aaron. It isn’t hard to see the family resemblance, especially when he smirks slightly before twisting back to face his own visitor.

“Let me guess,” Robert says lowly. “Kieron McCormac. Shane’s brother.”

Aaron sighs, but nods. “Yeah.”

“He did this to ya?” Robert frowns. “When they said you’d be delayed, I thought the worse. I thought…”

“What? That I’d hurt myself? That I’d tried to top myself?”

“No,” he says quickly, then closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe. I don’t know. You’ve been checked over?”

“I’m _fine_, Robert. I can take a beating.”

“That isn’t exactly reassuring,” Robert points out.

“I have to do this,” Aaron insists. “Kieron wanted me to be a mule for him. I said no. I said I weren’t going to do anymore favours for him or his brother. I knew what would happen. I knew I’d take a couple of punches for it. I was prepared for it. It’s okay.”

“Okay? Aaron, _none_ of this is okay.”

“But it’s necessary. It’ll be done soon.”

“And if he kicks in your head properly?” Robert demands, feeling sick just at the thought.

“He won’t.” Aaron smiles grimly. “I said no and I took the beating. Far as Kieron’s concerned, it’s done. Shane can sort me out once I’m back outside. He’s not gonna be doing his brother any more favours while he’s in here.” 

Robert sits back, rubbing a hand over his face. “I hate this,” he says quietly. “I hate that I can’t protect you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m handling it. I’ll be okay, Robert. If I keep my head down, I’ll be out in a couple of months.” 

“Where Shane will be waiting.”

Aaron smiles suddenly, shark-like. “Yeah. And I’ll be waiting for him.”

That does little to ease Robert’s frustration over the whole thing, but before he can respond, time is called. He grits his teeth. It feels like he’s barely been here a few minutes and already it’s time to leave.

“I’ll be here next week, yeah?” he says. 

Aaron nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “I’ll see you next week.”

Relief cools Robert’s irritation. Aaron’s done pushing him away. He gets to his feet, wishing he could reach out and hug Aaron, but he knows better. Instead, he offers a small smile and turns to go, but Aaron says his name, catching his attention again. When Robert looks back at him, Aaron smiles slightly.

“I love ya.”

Warmth unfurls in Robert’s chest. “I know,” he says. “I love you too.”

***

“So?” Chas demands the second he walks into the pub. “How is he?”

“He’s…” Robert hesitates, then sighs. “He’s alright, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” she repeats, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by ‘I suppose’?”

“There was a bit of an incident.”

Chas frowns, alarm splashing across her expression. “What kind of an incident? Do I need to call the prison?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, he just…there was an altercation with another prisoner. He had a bruise and a split lip, but he’s fine.”

“I think your definition of ‘fine’ and mine are a bit different,” she snips. “So, what, an altercation? Is he in trouble? Bloody hell, they can extend his sentence for fighting. What is he playing at?”

“I don’t think that’s the case. They wouldn’t have let me see him else, would they?” Robert points out. 

Cain’s stood a little further down the bar with Moira, but his gaze is fixed on Chas and Robert. “That Kieron bloke?” he asks, and Robert nods. “Did he fight back?”

“I don’t think so, no. But he wouldn’t really talk about it.”

“How’s he coping?”

Robert shrugs. “He said he’s handling it. That he can take a punch.”

Cain nods slightly. “Good lad.”

“Good lad?” Chas repeats incredulously. “Cain, Aaron ain’t like you.”

“There was a time when you were always on my case about making sure he ain’t like me,” Cain points out. “I reckoned you’d be happy now he isn’t.”

“Aaron’s way of coping -.”

“I know,” Cain cuts her off. “But if Aaron says he’s got it handled, then I believe him. Have some faith, yeah?” 

Chas shakes her head, lips thinning. She’s not happy. Of course she isn’t. Robert isn’t either. But there’s not much they can do without making things worse for Aaron, so they just have to deal with it and try and keep an eye on how Aaron’s coping.

“He’s strong,” he offers quietly. “He seems to be doing okay.”

“Yeah, _seems_ to be,” she agrees. “Last time I thought that, I found out he’d been cutting himself.”

“Cain’s right. Aaron knows what he’s doing.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I know. I just…he’s my boy. My only son. I can’t bear to see him going through all this.”

“I know,” Robert says. “But it’ll be over soon.”

Chas opens her mouth to reply, but stops when someone slumps over the bar next to Robert, eyebrows raising slightly. Chrissie’s cheeks are flushed from one glass of wine too many, her fringe ruffled from fiddling with it, and she looks completely miserable. She nudges her empty glass over the bar.

“Another,” she says, digging in her handbag for her purse.

“I think you might have had enough, love,” Chas suggests kindly. 

Chrissie snorts. “Impossible.”

Chas pauses, considering that, and then gives a little shrug and a nod in agreement. She grabs a clean glass and turns to fill it with crisp white wine. Robert eyes Chrissie and she glances at him, then blinks when she realises who she’s stood next to.

“You,” she accuses.

He pulls a face. “What have I done now?”

“Lachlan.”

He pauses, then does the same shrug-nod as Chas. “Yeah, alright. But he was asking for it.”

“Yes,” she says, the ‘s’ thick between her teeth, softened by booze. “Well. After your little chat, he came home and starting asking about his dad. He’d decided he wanted to see him, that he wanted to go and live with him.” She purses her lips for a second. “When I couldn’t offer him any answers, he started digging.”

“So?” Robert asks. 

“I had to tell him the truth in the end. About his dad. About what I did.”

Robert looks at her for a moment. If he’s honest, he’s always admired her for what she did to Danny. It’s why he’d been amused when most of the village decided to see her as a victim, as a sweet, duped fool who’d been cheated on by her husband, when in reality, she’s anything but. It’s that ‘anything but’ that attracted him to her in the first place; it’s one of the reasons he once loved her. She’s sharp as a whip and can be just as cunning as he is. When provoked, she can be a shark. It’s why she’s always excelled at running the family business. It’s why she’s always got her own way. She’d seen a way to get rid of Danny, put together a plan quickly and efficiently and, most importantly, flawlessly, and she’d pulled it off without a second of doubt. He’d loved her for it, once; loved that he could see some of his own duplicitous resourcefulness mirrored in her.

He’s not really concerned about Lachlan knowing the truth. After all, what happened had been entirely down to Chrissie, and what goes on in that family is, thankfully, nothing to do with him anymore. He has no stake in this and he couldn’t care less about Lachlan if he tried. But he and Chrissie have been somewhat civil lately and it’ll be a pain in the arse if that changes because she blames him for provoking Lachlan; he has enough to worry about as it is.

“How’d he take it?” he asks.

“How do you think?” she snaps. “He’s not talking. To me or to anyone. But he hasn’t gone off on one, so I suppose that’s something.”

Robert frowns. “That just means he’s plotting.”

Chrissie shakes her head. “I’m handling it,” she says. “Just try not to make the situation any worse, alright?”

“I’d happily never see his face again,” he points out. “I only said what I did because he keeps going after Aaron. He said really sick things about the situation with Gordon.”

She eyes him for a moment, but doesn’t argue. Chas looks between them as she slides the fresh glass of wine across the bar, accepting the cash Chrissie hands her. Clearly, she decides she’d rather not know and definitely doesn’t want to get involved, as she walks away quickly, joining Charity at the corner of the bar to speak to Cain and Moira.

Chrissie picks up the glass and drains the wine in two impressive gulps. Setting it down again, she tips her head back so she can meet his gaze.

“Just stay out of his way,” she advises. “And I’ll try and keep him out of yours.”

With that, she marches out of the pub, and Robert sighs, looking down at his beer. It’s nothing to do with him, but he knows Lachlan, knows the level of spite and contempt the brat holds towards him. 

He’ll _make_ it Robert’s business.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a pretty heavy chapter, so content warnings for: discussion of Jack beating Robert with his belt, discussion of Jack's homophobia, mention of scars; mention of near-death experiences; mention of self-harm and scars; mention of burning flesh (an implied reference to Sarah's death);hospitals; discussion of violence; description of injuries.

“What did you put in here, love? It’s delicious.”

Vic visibly brightens at Diane’s praise. Despite having worked in the pub for so long, and despite having even Marlon reluctantly admit that she’s a good chef, she’s still always so happy when her stepmum compliments her cooking. 

“Redcurrant jelly in the ragu,” she explains. “And a bit of extra Dijon mustard and parmesan in the white sauce.”

“See, now, I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Diane says. “You’re a natural.”

Adam digs his fork into his giant slab of lasagne, nodding. “This is gorgeous, babe,” he agrees.

Robert smiles slightly at the way Vic actually beams. Swallowing his own mouthful – and it _is_ delicious, by far the best lasagne he’s ever had – he nudges her elbow gently with his own. 

“S’good,” he tells her.

Diane takes a sip from her cup of tea, looking around the table with a pleased, satisfied expression on her face. Andy’s sat between Doug and Adam and her approval at all of her stepchildren being able to eat a civil family dinner without any sly digs or blistering arguments is palpable. Andy hasn’t spoken much and neither has Robert, but it’s not through tension or resentment for once; they’re just both too exhausted to contribute to conversation. 

Adam’s pretty quiet, too, but that’s not hugely unusual for him when he’s shovelling food down his throat. Once he’s bulldozed through half his meal, he sits back, a yawn fracturing the conversation between Diane and Vic.

“Sorry,” he says, still yawning. Vic kicks his ankle gently under the table and he quickly smothers his yawn with his fist to be polite. “Long day up at the yard. I’m knackered.”

Diane’s face creases with sympathy. “Of course. Must be hard without Aaron about. Are you doing it all on your own?”

Adam shakes his head. “No, uh, actually Robert’s been helping out most days. He’s been a lifesaver, actually.”

She looks at Robert, mildly surprised. He tries not take offence at it, just shrugs slightly, dragging the side of his fork over a layer of lasagne sheets to scrape up plenty of white sauce and melted cheese. 

“No wonder you look exhausted, pet,” she remarks. “You must be busy, what with your business and all.”

“It’s not too bad,” he replies. “I’m managing it.”

It’s been good to have a routine, actually. He’s been incredibly busy, but it’s nothing he hasn’t experienced before, back before Chrissie as well as during their relationship when he helped out with the family business. He’s coped before and he finds he actually likes the rhythm. 

His consultancy is still fresh, still gaining traction, but there’s been plenty of enquiries and a steady flow of clients, providing a consistent profit. Between juggling that and his duties for the enterprises he’s invested in, spending a few hours every day up at the yard helping Adam, and checking in regularly with Chas and Liv to keep an eye on them on Aaron’s behalf, he hasn’t had a day off. He likes it like that, though; he’s always been active, always liked to immerse himself multiple responsibilities; he enjoys chasing the thrill of being busy.

He gets a call from Aaron twice a week, in the evenings, and he gets to see him once a fortnight; he’d prefer if it was weekly, but it isn’t fair to hog every visit, so he alternates with Aaron’s family and Adam. The scant hour they get never seems enough and the phonecalls are even worse because he can’t see Aaron’s face, can’t see the truth of how he’s feeling. He can hear it, sometimes, in the crack of Aaron’s voice, or in silences that stretch for too long. 

Aaron’s coping, but it’s by the skin of his teeth, and there’s nothing Robert can do to help except be there for him. 

“What about you, love?” Diane asks Andy, snapping Robert free from his thoughts. “You look knackered.”

“Been busy up at Butlers,” he explains. “Moira’s been down with the flu for a couple of weeks and now she’s got a chest infection, so I’ve taken on most of the work.”

It’s April and Robert knows what that means; calving season is coming up, plus the gimmer hoggs will need worming, not to mention the potato crops are due to be planted and it’s time to fertilize the grazing fields. If Andy’s trying to prepare for all of that while finishing his usual duties at the farm, no wonder he’s exhausted; he’ll be running himself ragged.

“Moira ought to take on a couple extra helping hands,” Doug suggests. “It’s not right for you to be taking all that on.”

“With what money?” Andy points out. “Winter was rough this year. She’s struggling to turn over a profit as it is.”

Diane clears her throat, standing to start stacking the empty plates. “Well,” she says. “It’ll be done soon, won’t it? Moira will soon be back on her feet. Don’t you worry, pet.”

Vic helps clear up and Adam joins them in the kitchen to make a fresh cup of tea. For a moment, silence lingers over the table before Andy clears his throat, catching Robert’s gaze.

“How’s Aaron doing?” he asks.

“About as well as can be expected,” Robert replies carefully. 

Doug shakes his head slightly. “That lad,” he says with a sigh. “He could do so much for himself. Instead he goes round acting like a thug. I’m telling ya, it’s a shame.”

Anger zips through Robert. “You don’t know what happened, so don’t go judging.” 

“I know he has a bit of a record -.”

“Oi,” Adam warns, setting cups of tea down on the table. “Aaron hasn’t done anything wrong, alright?”

Doug frowns. “But -.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time the coppers got it wrong,” Andy offers. 

“If Adam reckons Aaron’s innocent, then I believe him,” Vic adds.

Diane looks between them and clears her throat, rubbing Doug’s arm slightly. “Well,” she says. “I hope he’s doing well, anyway. He’ll be out soon, won’t he?”

“Next month, all going well,” Robert replies. 

Andy nods. “That’s good. Tell him I asked after him, yeah?”

Robert slants him a look. He can just imagine Aaron’s expression at being told about Andy asking if he’s okay and he has to bite back a grin. But Andy’s trying and it’s good to have someone else on side, considering Doug’s probably not the only one in the village with a not so generous opinion of Aaron, so Robert appreciates it.

Vic quickly switches the topic of conversation to something a little safer. Robert stays quiet for the most part, exhausted and more than ready for bed, but he sips his tea – too strong, with too little milk; Adam’s awful at making tea – and listens, staying polite. Still, he’s relieved when Diane and Doug finally call it a night. 

Diane lingers behind as Doug says his goodbyes to Vic and Adam in the hall. She touches her hand briefly to Robert’s elbow.

“I know I haven’t always been fair to you, pet,” she admits gently. “But I am proud of ya. All the hard work you’re putting in, it’s good to see. Your dad would be proud, too.”

Robert swallows. He manages a nod. “Cheers.”

“I haven’t always been Aaron’s biggest fan, either,” she adds. “But I’ve come to like him. He’s a decent lad, despite his faults. I’m glad you’ve got someone like him. You look happy.”

“I’ll be happier when he’s out,” he replies dryly. “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

She smiles and stretches up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Robert’s not really there yet; he cares about Diane, but he’s still working on forgiving her for some of her actions in the past, for her blatant preferential attitude towards Andy. It’ll take some more time before he’s comfortable with that level of affection from her. 

Andy heads out with Diane and Doug. Robert cleans up the empty mugs, then bids a quick goodnight to Adam and Vic, heading up to the spare room. He barely has the energy to shower before collapsing into bed.

He’s out before his head even hits the pillow.

***

He’s up and out of the house bright and early the next morning for a meeting with a potential client. It ends up taking a solid couple of hours, but there’s plenty of coffee, so Robert doesn’t mind the appointment running over.

The scrapyard is closed for the day; Adam’s taken Vic away for a long weekend. Robert doesn’t have any plans for the rest of the day. He could get some paperwork done, maybe check over the accounts while he’s got some spare time on his hands, or he could take the afternoon off to relax. But even as he thinks about it, he already knows what he’s going to do.

He swings by Vic’s first, changing out of his suit into casual jeans and a jumper, and then drives up to Butler’s Farm. Parking, he climbs out, gravel crunching underneath his boots. It’s spitting slightly with rain, a cool wind rustling the trees. Tucking his hands into his pockets, Robert makes his way to the edge of the drive, looking into the fields. He spots a splash of bright green moving in the pig pen and hops the wooden fence, cutting across the empty grazing field to approach his brother.

Andy’s got a bucket of scraps in his hands, pouring the slop into the feeding trough. The quiet creak of rusted metal as Robert leans against the pen’s gate draws his attention to Robert and he straightens, surprise clear on his face.

“Got any spare overalls?” Robert asks.

Andy frowns. “What for?”

“I fancy making a fashion statement,” he says dryly. “What do you _think_ I want them for?”

“You want to help out?” he asks, a little stilted. Doubt is thick in his tone and Robert snorts.

“Yeah, trust me. I’m about as surprised by it as you are, mate. But I’ve got the afternoon off, so do you want the help or not?”

“Dunno,” Andy says, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Do you reckon you can keep up? It’s hard work, this. A lot of physical labour for a pencil pusher.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” he replies. “I mean, if _you_ can do it, a monkey could.” 

He laughs at the banter, clearing out the rest of the bucket of slop. Climbing the gate, he brushes off his hands, then shoves them into the pockets of his overalls.

“You’re on, then,” he challenges. “There’s some spare overalls in the house. I’ll go grab ‘em for ya.”

Robert follows Andy up to the house, but lingers in the kitchen while Andy grabs the overalls. Moira isn’t about; she’s probably resting in bed. Once Andy returns, Robert tugs the overalls on over his clothes, tucking the legs into a borrowed pair of study farming wellies. The overalls fit a little loosely on him, but they aren’t uncomfortable and they’ll do their job. 

“So, what do you need me to do?” 

“Reckon you can fertilize the cattle pasture up at the top?” Andy asks. “The tractor and sprayer are already up there.”

Robert nods. Andy tosses him the keys and he snags them out of the air with one hand, then follows his brother out of the house. They split up outside, Andy heading to the barns to unload a delivery of hay, and Robert makes his way to the top cattle pasture. 

It takes a while to get everything set up. After all, it has been a long time since he lasted did any proper work on a farm. When he’d first left Emmerdale, he’d taken on a couple of temporary farmhand jobs here and there to scrape together cash, but once he’d gone to London and pursued an education and career in business, he’d thought he’d left his farming days well behind him. So he’s a little rusty, things taking a while to come back to him, but the knowledge is still there; deeply buried, but still ingrained in him.

Finally, he’s behind the wheel, and he doesn’t mind this kind of work. There’s something rhythmic and satisfying about it, about forging a steady, neat path through the pasture to ensure total coverage. It’s easy enough to focus on the rumble of the engine and the slight bounce as the tractor navigates uneven parts of the land, easy enough to just not think for a while. 

He’d never really understood his dad’s love for farming. It was more than a job for him, more than a lifestyle; it was _everything_ to him. He couldn’t even begin to fathom a life outside of the farm. It’s one of the reasons they’d clashed so much. Robert still doesn’t get it, not really. The thought of a life spent breaking his back every day working the farm for minimal profit isn’t exactly his idea of a life well spent. But he can admit that he does see the appeal of this aspect of the work, the peaceful solitude of working the fields. 

When he’s done, he jumps out of the tractor, and spots Andy by the fence. There’s a tray balanced on the post to his right, loaded with two mugs of tea and something wrapped up in foil. Robert makes his way over, the ground squelching under his wellies. 

“Moira made us a cuppa,” Andy says. “And some bacon butties. She asked me to thank you for helping out. She really appreciates it.”

Robert shrugs. “It’s no bother.”

He unwraps one of the sandwiches, casting a look over the pasture. “You’ve done a good job there, lad.”

“Not bad for a city slicker, then?” he asks dryly. “I reckon all that pencil pushing must’ve built up my muscles.”

“Nah, you’re still a farm boy at heart,” Andy replies. 

“Maybe. Least I don’t smell like one anymore, though. No offence.”

He snorts. “None taken. I can always take a bath, but you’ll always be a prat.” 

Robert grins. “You know what a bath is? Impressive.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Shut up and get those butties down ya. I need a hand with the gimmer hoggs.”

He peels foil back from his sandwiches. They’re good, the bacon crispy and smothered in brown sauce, and he hadn’t realised how hungry he was until he takes his first bite. He ends up shovelling them down, filling the hole in his stomach, and washes them down with his mug of tea. Andy carries the tray back to the house as Robert heads to the barn where the sheep have been corralled.

This job is a lot more hands on and it’s been years since he last helped out with it; the last time, he’d been roped into it by his dad. Still, he manages to calibrate his dosage gun properly, ensuring it’ll give the correct dose, and he isn’t completely rusty when it comes to calming the sheep down enough to administer the worming treatment. 

They work in silence for a while, the only sound the reproachful bleat of a sheep or the soft click the equipment makes when they release a dose into each ewe’s mouth. After a while, Andy looks over at him, approval in his gaze.

“You’re not doing too bad, there,” he offers.

Robert snorts. “Cheers. I’ll try not to get too big of an ego boost.”

“I told ya, you’re still a farm boy at heart. It’s all coming back to you, ain’t it?”

He shrugs. “Hard to forget all this, the way it was drilled into me.”

“Dad would be proud of ya, you know.”

Robert can’t bite back a bitter smile. “He really wouldn’t.”

“What, ‘cause you prefer business?” Andy frowns. “Look, I know dad always pushed farming onto you, but it’s just ‘cause he wanted you to stick with the family farm. He wouldn’t be disappointed with everything else you’ve achieved. I reckon he’d be proud of ya.”

“Maybe,” he allows, though he doubts it. “But he’d hate the fact that I’m with a bloke.”

Andy stops short, staring at him. The frown on his face deepens. “Nah, come on. Dad wasn’t like that.”

“With other people, maybe,” he replies, shrugging. “Yeah, he’d have a beer down the local with a gay bloke. Wouldn’t want anyone to think he’s a bigot, after all. But his own son? Not a chance.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Because dad knew, Andy. He knew I’m bisexual.”

The sheep Andy had been absent-mindedly petting wriggles free, joining the rest of the wormed flock at the other end of the barn. Outside, the wind has picked up a little, howling quietly, cold fingers digging through the cracks in the old wood and spilling through the gaps in the door. Andy’s gaze doesn’t stray from Robert’s face. 

“What are you talking about?” he demands.

Robert sighs. “He caught me, alright? When I was just a lad. He caught me with one of the blokes that worked on the farm, in my bedroom.”

“Doing what?”

“What do you _think_?” 

Andy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, what did he do?”

“Fired the bloke,” he replies, then adds, quietly, “And leathered me with his belt.”

“You what? You’re telling me dad _beat_ you?”

“Just that one time,” he says. “He didn’t do it again. He told me it was for bunking off school, but we both knew better. I saw the disgust and disappointment in his face when he caught me. He never looked at me the same way after that. I suppose he always saw exactly what he didn’t want in a son. I was always letting him down, wasn’t I?”

“Robert, I…”

Robert grits his teeth. He knows what Andy’s about to say, knows that he’s going to deny it, refuse to believe that their dad, for all of his faults, would ever beat his own son, even if it was just once. He’s going to deny that their dad could ever hate Robert for being into blokes. He knows it, but he isn’t prepared for it, not from Andy, not from anyone.

“I still have a couple of scars from the buckle,” he says sharply. “They’re pretty faded, but I’ll show you ‘em if you want.”

“What? Rob, no.” Andy shakes his head. “I believe ya.”

That stops him short. He frowns. “You do?”

“’Course I do. You wouldn’t lie about something like that.” He pauses. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Does anyone else know?”

“No, and I don’t want them to,” he replies firmly. “And I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think anyone would believe me. Besides, I…” he sighs. “I know how much dad meant to you, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” Andy says quietly. “Rob, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“Are ya?” His gaze is knowing, smile sad as he looks at Robert. “’Cause I reckon you haven’t visited his grave once since you came back.”

“I’m over it,” he repeats. “But that doesn’t mean I can just forgive everything. Not just the beating, but everything else. I didn’t come home to forgive him.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Robert shakes his head slightly, turning away. “It’s fine,” he says. “Just…just stop comparing me to him, alright? Stop saying he’d be proud of me.”

“I won’t bring him up again.” 

He exhales slowly. It feels strange to have it out there, to have told someone the truth, after all these years. It feels even weirder to be believed. He knows Andy is hurting, knows how hard it must be to hear it when he’d hero-worshipped their dad, but his quiet understanding and promise not to talk about Jack, or about any of it…it’s a surprise. It’s more than he ever would have expected from Andy. And he appreciates it, more than he could ever express out loud.

“Let’s just finish this, yeah?” he mutters. “I reckon a storms coming.”

Andy nods, picking up his dosage gun again. They finish the job in silence and replenish the water and feeds inside the barn, since the ewes will have to be quarantined for a couple of days now they’ve had their treatment. 

They clean up in the kitchen, scrubbing their hands, and Moira offers them fresh cups of tea, thanking them again for their help. Robert politely declines. After his admission to Andy, he needs some solitude, needs to just be on his own and forget about everything for a while.

Andy catches him on his way out. “Cheers, mate,” he says. “I do really appreciate the help.”

“It’s no problem.” He shrugs. “I didn’t mind it, actually.”

He smiles and Robert manages a small, stilted one back. He thinks about the cufflinks and tie pin set, still firmly shut away in a drawer back at Vic’s. He thinks it might be time to take them out and actually get some use out of them. 

***

Two days later, he has a visit with Aaron.

He can tell something is up the second Aaron files into the room. The sleeves of his burgundy jumper are tugged down over his fingers and his eyes are a little red from lack of sleep. He casts a quick glance around as he approaches, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders when he finally looks at Robert.

Slumping into the chair across from him, he offers a quiet, “Hiya.”

“Hi,” Robert says softly. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Fine.”

Aaron nods slightly. He starts chewing at a hangnail on his thumb, knee bouncing under the table, and Robert wants to reach out, wants to take his hand in his own or curl his fingers over Aaron’s thigh to gently still his fidgeting. But he can’t. Not here. 

“Is Kieron giving you grief?” he asks quietly.

Aaron’s gaze snaps to his. “What?” he shakes his head slightly. “No, no he hasn’t bothered me in ages.”

Robert looks at him, searching his expression. “I know something is wrong, Aaron.”

“I promise ya, Kieron isn’t giving me any hassle.”

“But someone else is?” he guesses.

“It’s nowt I can’t handle,” he says firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Robert inhales deeply, rubbing at his temple with his index fingertip. “’Course I’m gonna worry about it. Aaron…”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Really. Just knackered. I’m ready to be out of here already. I miss ya.”

“I miss you too,” he replies quietly. “We all do.”

“Just a few weeks now.” Aaron offers a small smile. “What have you been up to?”

“The usual. Work, helping Adam out at the yard. I gave Andy a hand up at the farm the other day.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I was raised on a farm, ya know. Just ‘cause I drive a nice car and run my own business doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my roots.”

“I never said that,” Aaron replies, grinning slightly. “So, what did you help with?”

“I fertilized the grazing field and helped worm the gimmer hoggs.”

“Informative,” he says dryly. “Come on, talk to me. I’ve been bored as hell in here.”

“Do you really want to talk about farming?” he asks dubiously. “We’ve only got an hour. And it isn’t really your thing, is it? Sheep and fields?”

Aaron narrows his eyes, face lighting up slightly in challenge. “So, I’m guessing you used nitrogen on the pasture? It’s too early for phosphorous and potassium, but nitrogen could jump start the spring growth. Oh, and, uh, did Andy do a faecal worm egg count before doing the treatment? Either way, the ewes can’t be moved to the dirty pasture until they’ve been quarantined for, what? Twenty-four hours?”

“Forty-eight,” Robert corrects automatically, staring at Aaron, stunned. “How do you…?”

“I’ve helped Adam out at the farm plenty of times,” he points out. “And I used to help Paddy with the animal side of things. I picked some stuff up. Don’t understand most of it and you’re right, it ain’t really my kind of thing, but I don’t mind hearing about it.”

“Okay. Point taken. Don’t underestimate you.” Robert frowns slightly, sitting back. “How come you never went into a career with animals, if you helped Paddy?”

“’Cause I would’ve needed to do a veterinary assistant course.” He shrugs. “I weren’t clever enough.”

It’s Robert’s turn to narrow his eyes. “You know, one of the tractors keeps leaking fuel. I reckon there’s a hole in the injector return line. Any ideas how to fix it?”

“Depends on the specs,” he replies. “If the lines are in sections and connected to the return ports, they won’t be pressurised, so you could replace it with a length of fuel line.”

Robert smirks, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t ever tell me you’re not clever.”

“I failed pretty much all of my GCSEs,” Aaron replies sullenly. “’Cause I kept bunking off. I hated school. I only got onto the mechanics course ‘cause our Debbie helped me out. I like animals, yeah, but I prefer what I’m doing now.” He pauses, then amends, a touch bitterly, “Well, not _right_ now, but at the yard, I mean.”

Robert nods. “Adam misses ya. I reckon he’s getting pretty fed up with me hanging about.”

“Yeah, well, Adam doesn’t have good taste, does he?”

The unexpected flirting brings a grin to Robert’s face. He tilts his head slightly, though, as he says, “He’s married to my sister, so, careful what you say.”

“Vic being the exception, obviously,” he replies easily.

“I miss you,” he murmurs. He can feel it already, even though they still have time left, even though Aaron is right here in front of him; the throb in his chest, the ache of missing him that feels like a constant, pulsing bruise behind his ribs. 

Aaron offers a small smile. “I miss ya too. But I’ll be out soon. It’ll be okay.”

Robert nods and manages a smile back. Despite the splinter of misery in his gut at only getting to see Aaron once a week, despite how shitty the whole situation is, he does his best to believe Aaron. Because it’s all they’ve both got.

***

Mid-April brings spring thunderstorms to Emmerdale.

After six straight days of constant, heavy rain drenching the village, Robert is more than a little fed up of it. He’s sick of his shoes squelching in the sodden grass, sick of damp skin and the splash of tyres through puddles, sick of the constant tap of rain on the windows.

He still helps Adam up at the scrapyard, but it’s horrible, hauling bits of rusty metal or stripping old cars while getting completely soaked by the sheets of rain. They’re both grouchy, snipping and sniping at the slightest thing, and Robert can feel his bad mood spilling over when they’re at home, too. It just reinforces to him the fact that he needs to get his own place and soon. 

During the brief breaks in the rain and spells of hail, Robert helps Andy at the farm. Moira’s back on her feet for the most part, but under doctor’s advice not to do too much physical labour, especially in the cold and rain when she’s recovering from a bad chest infection. Robert doesn’t mind the work, especially when it’s a job he can do on his own, and he can just enjoy the quiet solitude and be left to his own thoughts.

It’s a dreary Sunday and Robert’s helping to fix a couple of fences bordering the property when he recognises Adam’s car, swerving way too fast round the corner and onto the drive. He brakes hard, splashing chips of gravel away from the tyres, and Robert straightens. There’s a hammer and a couple of nails in his hand, but he sets them down next to a pile of wooden posts and a roll of wire mesh fencing. 

Andy finish nailing a plank of wood into place and stands from his crouch, following Robert’s gaze. “That’s Adam, innit?” When Robert just nods, he asks, “Reckon he’s here to see his mam?”

“I don’t know.” 

But there’s a bad feeling in Robert’s gut and it only grows uglier, biting sharp teeth into his intestines, when Adam spots them by the fence and shouts Robert’s name, voice cracking loud and frantic over the fields. He’s sprinting a second later and reaches them quickly, face flushed, eyes wide with alarm.

“Chas called,” he says breathlessly. “It’s Aaron.” 

“What?” Panic turns Robert’s tone to steel. “What’s happened?”

“I dunno, but he – she says he’s in hospital.”

Robert turns to Andy, opens his mouth, but his brother’s already nodding.

“Go ahead, I’ve got it from here,” he says quickly. 

“Cheers.” Robert peels off the gloves he’d borrowed for their task, laying them over one of the fence posts.

“I hope he’s okay, yeah?” Andy adds.

Robert nods and follows Adam back to the driveway. He fishes his own keys out of his pocket and he’s already on the road by the time Adam gets his engine started, pulling out behind him. Dread coils, tight and urgent, down Robert’s spine, throbs behind his eyes as he drives, hands tight around the steering wheel. 

He can’t stop his mind from spinning, going over the countless scenarios, the worst possible prognoses. Aaron could have hurt himself, could have done something drastic. Someone _else_ could have hurt him. Robert’s got his foot down, pushing the speed limit, but he has no idea what he’s rushing towards. Aaron could be _dead_, and if he is, Robert has no idea what he’ll do, how he’ll cope with losing him. He doesn’t think he _could_ cope. 

Fear splinters his ribs open, flays him until all he can focus on is his apprehension. Terror swells in his lungs, fills him until he can’t breathe, until he’s sure he’s going to explode if it doesn’t all spill out soon. The drive to Hotten General seems to take forever; each mandatory stop sign has him spitting out a curse, each red light stoking at the tight knot tangling his guts up. 

Adam’s right behind him the whole way and they practically sprint into the hospital, side by side. It’s only when they skid to a stop in the reception area that they realise they have no idea which department Aaron is even in.

“Aaron Dingle,” Adam says breathlessly to the bloke behind the desk. “Can we see him?”

“Are you family?” he asks.

“No, I’m his mate.”

Robert already knows what the response will be, so he cuts in. “I’m his boyfriend. His mum called us.” 

With a nod, the man turns to his computer, tapping quickly at the keyboard. After a moment, he rattles off the department and ward name, and Robert thanks him quickly before following Adam down the corridor.

He’s never been keen on hospitals. The sterile, cold, impersonal atmosphere unsettles him. He hates the way the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic lingers in his throat, sour on his tongue, hates the bright, artificial lights, the way they spill dazzling white down narrow corridors, invading every corner. He hates how time doesn’t seem real in hospitals, suspended in a way that feels viscerally mechanical and universal, fragmented by moments of joy and moments of grief.

He knows it isn’t real, but, sometimes, he’s certain he can smell the stench of burning flesh the second he steps foot inside a hospital. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, has never believed in any of that nonsense, but he’s sure he can feel the echoes of memories filling the hallways like spectres.

The squeak of his damp shoes on the polished floors and warm, stale air spilling from industrial heaters brings with it the memory of Aaron in his arms, half-dead from blood poisoning. He has to close his eyes and inhale deeply to chase away the image of a cut up arm that’s branded into his mind.

They reach the right ward. Aaron’s in a private room; there’s a guard sat right outside and another standing inside, a harsh reminder that Aaron’s supposed to still be locked up. Neither of them say a word when Robert and Adam step into the room.

Robert remembers the first time he’d visited Aaron, the bruise on his cheekbone and the cut on his lip, remembers the alarm and frustration he’d felt at knowing the man he loves is hurt and there’s nothing he can do to help. It’s nothing compared to how he feels now.

Aaron looks a hell of a lot worse this time. One side of his face is a vicious patchwork of black, blue and vivid red, bruises smattering his skin like stains. His eye is swollen completely shut, black circling it like a shadow, his lip is split, and there’s a slim cut on his puffy cheekbone. A shallow cut at his hairline has been closed with butterfly stitches.

Robert feels sick just looking at him. He’d tried to prepare himself, tried to expect the worse, but he never could have prepared for or expected _this_. Aaron is a fucking _wreck_.

He’s also awake, and he smiles weakly when he spots Robert, wincing slightly when the gesture tugs at his split lip.

“Mum,” he rasps. “Give us a minute, yeah?”

Chas doesn’t look happy about it. Robert can’t blame her; now he’s here, he doesn’t want to leave Aaron’s side, either. But she nods, tearful, and steps away from the bed. She gives Robert’s elbow a brief, supportive squeeze before she quietly leaves the room.

Adam hesitates, then steps forward. His hand curls around the railing at the bottom of the bed. “Bloody hell, mate,” he says quietly.

“I look that bad, eh?” Aaron asks, trying and failing to grin. He shifts slightly, then winces, going still again. “I’m fine. I can take a battering.”

Adam shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I’m fine,” Aaron repeats. “Thanks for coming, yeah? Can I just…can we have a minute?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. I’ll go get some coffee, alright?”

“Cheers, mate.”

Robert waits until the door closes behind Adam before he moves closer, half collapsing into the ugly orange chair tucked up next to the bed. The plastic creaks under his weight, legs scraping sharply over the linoleum floor. They’re not alone; the guard has to stay. But he sticks to his position by the door, giving them the illusion of privacy, at least.

“Oh god,” Robert mutters. “_Aaron_. Look at ya.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” Aaron reassures him. “Couple of cracked ribs and a fractured cheekbone. I can handle it. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” He repeats. He gives a shaking laugh, the sound damp with unshed tears. “Did Kieron do this?” 

“Nah.” Aaron smiles grimly. “Bit of a blessing, actually. Bloke who did this has as much clout in there as Kieron. Now he’s taken an interest in battering me, Kieron’s backed right off.”

“Oh, and that’s better, is it?” Robert demands. “Aaron, you’re a _mess_. One bloke did this?”

“Well, him and a couple of mates. I ain’t a pushover. I gave as good as I got. Or I tried to, anyway. One against three isn’t great odds, though.” 

Robert swallows. “You’re going back in there, Aaron.”

“Yeah, but there’s just a couple more weeks left on my sentence.”

“So? What happens in those two weeks, huh? What happens next time this fella decides to give you a beating?” He pauses, dragging in a trembling breath. “What if next time you wind up dead?”

“Don’t worry, Robert,” Aaron insists gently. “Please. I can handle it.”

“I can’t lose you, Aaron. I _can’t_.”

“You’re not gonna. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, though.” Robert rubs a hand over his face. “Do the guards know who did it?”

“No, and they’re not _gonna_ know. I’m not a grass, Robert.”

He stares at him, incredulous. “Just battered and bruised, then.”

“If I snitch, it’ll just make things worse, trust me. They already know I’m gay. I don’t need to be a grass and all. Then I really _will_ get my head kicked in.” 

The brutal honesty pushes Robert over, has the tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He looks away, hands curling into fists, but he knows Aaron is right. He gets it, he does. The situation is fucking awful and he hates it, hates not being able to help or protect Aaron, but neither of them have any choice. The only control over the situation Aaron has right now is to keep his mouth shut in order to avoid a worse beating.

“They know?” he asks quietly. “How?”

“They just do. But it don’t matter, okay? Like I said, I’ll be out in a couple of weeks. I’ll be fine, Robert.”

He looks at Aaron’s face, takes in every ugly bruise and splash of dried blood. This bloke and his mates had managed to do this to Aaron without anyone knowing or intervening, without the guards getting involved. Who knows what they’ll do next time, how badly Aaron will end up. 

Two weeks is no time at all, but it feels like forever.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: mention of injuries; Shane; panic attacks; violence (unintentional on Aaron's part); mention of blood; discussion of Jason and what he did to Aaron in prison; discussion of past drug use; mention of Gordon and his past sexual abuse of Aaron; mention of suicide (Gordon's); mention of suicidal thoughts; discussion of self-harm and cutting; mention of scars; description of injuries; angst.

The day of Aaron’s release, Robert arrives at the prison thirty minutes early.

Once he’d been taken back to HMP Hotten, Aaron had only been allowed one more visit. Knowing how badly Chas and Liv had needed to see him – Liv especially, as she hadn’t been able to come up to visit him in the hospital – Robert had encouraged them to go, so he hasn’t seen Aaron in over a week.

The ache he feels doesn’t make sense; he’s gone longer without seeing Aaron since he got sent down. But knowing Aaron’s hurt and in trouble, and beyond his reach behind bars, makes the time stretch out until it seems like forever.

The thirty minutes drag by. The road outside the prison is silent. The building itself is ugly and imposing, all harsh brick, metal gates and barbed wire, but it’s so quiet. It’s hard to believe that there are hundreds of people behind those walls. That _Aaron_ is behind those walls. The short distance that separates them might as well be a chasm. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Robert keeps his gaze on the gates, impatient, ribs throbbing with worry. 

Finally, he sees movement, and he’s scrambling out of the car as Aaron steps out onto the pavement. He’s in the suit he wore to his sentencing, his hair and beard neatly groomed, and he’s clutching his bag in his hands, face pale. 

“Aaron,” Robert calls, taking a few steps towards him.

He knows Chas had told him that Robert would pick him up, but for a moment, Aaron still gazes at him blankly. It sends a shiver of unease skidding down Robert’s spine before Aaron finally moves, half-jogging to meet Robert in the middle of the road. He tosses his bag aside and grabs Robert in a tight hug, clinging to him. 

Robert closes his eyes, wrapping his own arms around Aaron. He wants to hold him just as tightly, wants to chase away the memory of not being able to even touch the man he loves, but he can’t, not when Aaron’s ribs are cracked. So he keeps his hug gentle and buries his face into Aaron’s neck, breathing in the familiar, sharp scent of his shower gel, breathing in the scent of _home_. Aaron’s hands fist in Robert’s jacket and he clutches at him almost desperately. His breath hitches in his chest, a pained hiss snapping between his teeth, and Robert gently tries to loosen his hold.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Your ribs.”

“They’re fine. I’m fine.” Aaron pulls back. “God, I missed ya.”

“I missed you too,” Robert promises. He cups Aaron’s face, lightly pressing their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a solid few minutes, until it occurs to them simultaneously that they’re still stood in the middle of the road. Robert collects Aaron’s bag and keeps a hand on the small of his back as he leads him to the car.

He’s walking slowly, one arm curled around his middle, fingers splayed over his side. His ribs are obviously giving him hassle. His eye is still slightly puffy, but nowhere near as swollen as the last time Robert saw him, and the bruises on his face have faded to a patchwork of bleak yellow-green and hazy blue. His cheekbone still looks bloody sore, though the cut is healing well. He’s trying to hide the pain, but Robert can see it, and he can’t stand to think about how bad it must have been when he was first taken back to the prison, how vulnerable he must have felt trying to face it all again while injured.

Once they’re on the road, Aaron hunches slightly in the passenger seat, trying to find a position that doesn’t put too much stress on his ribs. Once he finds it, he falls asleep in a matter of seconds. Robert glances over at him but doesn’t wake him up; the shadows under his eyes aren’t just bruises. He obviously needs the rest. 

It’s early May and the weather is mild; not especially warm, but not cold, either, and there’s no wind. The sky is smothered in thick grey clouds, however, and as Robert parks outside the Woolpack, a gentle drizzle starts tapping lightly on the windshield. He reaches over, resting his hand on Aaron’s elbow.

“Hey,” he says. “Aaron.”

He snaps awake, wincing as the movement jolts his ribs. He looks around with bleary eyes, then yawns, rubbing slightly at his face. 

“I slept the whole way?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Robert replies. “I would’ve woken ya, but you looked like you needed it.”

Aaron nods slightly. “Yeah. The painkillers knock me out.”

He doesn’t believe Aaron for a second. He’s telling the truth about the pain relief – Robert’s been there, experienced the heavy, exhausted fog that comes with being blissfully, chemically pain free for a couple of hours – but the dark smudges under his eyes tell a bigger story. He’s not been sleeping well, but Robert doesn’t really need to ask why, given the circumstances.

“Listen,” he says. “Your mum sort of organised a welcome home thing for you.”

Aaron pulls a face. “You’re kidding me.”

“It’s small, pretty lowkey,” he reassures him. “Just close family, nothing extravagant. But if you’re not up to it…”

“I’m not. I don’t want a fuss.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Robert asks, and Aaron nods.

Climbing out, Robert grabs Aaron’s door for him, helping him out. He loves his car, but he wishes he’d thought to borrow someone else’s, one that isn’t so low to the ground, because Aaron visibly flinches as he unfolds his body and straightens. Grabbing Aaron’s bag, Robert locks up and offers his hand.

“So, where to?”

Aaron nods towards the pub with his chin. “In there,” he says reluctantly. 

He opens his mouth to ask if he’s sure, but Aaron’s already walking away. They make their way round to the back, dropping Aaron’s bag off by the stairs, and Robert follows him through. He takes his hand as they step into the bar, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze. Aaron returns it firmly, offering silent gratitude.

A cheer instantly rings out. The banner Charity had put up earlier is half hanging from the ceiling, but Aaron still manages a small smile. 

“Wow, you shouldn’t have,” he says, then slants a wry look at Robert. “Really.”

Robert smiles, shaking his head. He reluctantly lets go of Aaron’s hand so he can accept the round of hugs from Chas, Liv, Charity and Belle. Debbie reaches out, giving his elbow a pat, and Robert watches as Aaron visibly starts to relax a little, clearly happy to be surrounded by his family. 

Adam hugs him tight, then pulls back with an apologetic expression when Aaron curses quietly. They hug again, gentle and lingering, Adam’s hand finding the back of Aaron’s neck to give it a brief squeeze before he pulls back, patting him carefully on the shoulder. Cain’s already ordered Aaron a pint and he nudges it across the bar towards him, but Aaron hesitates.

“I can’t,” he says. “I’m not supposed to mix booze with my painkillers.”

“Right,” Cain replies. He casts a glance over Aaron, taking in his injuries. “How ya doing, lad?”

“Fine.”

“S’about as much as you can hope for,” he agrees. “Besides, you’ve got to expect it. You were in on an assault charge. People in there will want a piece of ya.” 

“Yeah,” Aaron says hoarsely.

“But you came through it,” Cain adds. “I knew you would. I’m proud of you.”

Robert watches Aaron’s face closely. There’s something there, something ugly lurking underneath his small smile and nod in response to Cain’s words, and it has unease yawning in Robert’s belly. He knows Cain sees it too, notices the way Cain’s gaze sharpens as he looks at his nephew, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Chas presses a glass of Coke into Aaron’s palm, then curls her arm around his shoulders. He pulls a face but doesn’t lean away from the hug, instead giving her a quick, gentle squeeze. Unshed tears gleam in her eyes, soft and hazy under the pub’s warm golden lighting, and it’s obvious how much she missed him. She opens her mouth to say something, but the sudden quiet that falls over the rest of the Dingle clan stops her, and her gaze automatically snaps towards the doors.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Charity mutters under her breath. “Here we go.”

Shane’s completely unruffled by the numerous stares on him as he saunters further into the pub, hands shoved into the pockets of his trackies. It takes an incredibly brave or an incredibly stupid man to not be daunted by being on the receiving end of a death stare from the entirety of the Dingle family. If Robert’s honest, he reckons in Shane’s case, he’s the latter. His judgement is reinforced when Shane’s mouth pulls up into a self-satisfied little smirk as he looks at Aaron.

“Oi,” Adam snaps, pushing his way past Marlon and Zak to face Shane. “This is a private party. Get lost.”

There’s violence in his posture, anger clear in his eyes, and Robert knows there’s very little Adam wouldn’t do to protect his best friend. Moira reaches towards her son to pull him back, but Aaron gets there first, stepping past Adam until he’s stood just in front of him, half blocking his body with his own. 

Robert also knows that there’s even less that Aaron wouldn’t do to protect Adam and he catches Cain’s gaze as he moves to stand next to his partner. He’s not going to let Shane lay a hand on Aaron. 

“What are you doing here?” Aaron asks lowly.

“I heard you were getting out today,” Shane replies casually. “I came to see how my mate is doing. Didn’t realise there was gonna be a party. I’m a little hurt I didn’t get an invite.”

Aaron’s smile is dangerous. “Yeah? Well, you heard. It’s a private party. So do one.”

“That’s no way to speak to a mate, is it?”

“You’re not my _mate_,” he bites out. “You’re nothing. You’re scum. So get lost before I _make_ ya get lost.”

Shane crowds forward until they’re almost nose to nose, but Aaron doesn’t back down. He holds Shane’s gaze with a sharp, cold gleam in his eye, a ghost of a smile on his mouth as he stares at the other man in blatant challenge. Robert reaches out to take hold of Aaron’s elbow, ready to intervene, but Cain steps in, resting his hand on Aaron’s chest, arm creating a barrier between him and Shane.

“You heard him,” he says to Shane, tone like grit. “Do one.”

Shane looks at Cain for a long moment. He might be an idiot, but it’s clear he knows the odds are stacked against him, so he steps back, out of Aaron’s space. There’s a nasty smile on his face, however, when he looks back at Aaron.

“Come on, mate. You really need your family to fight your battles for ya? I thought you were harder than that.”

Aaron’s gaze lights up, his smile widening. “You want me to fight my own battles, yeah?” He says the words casually, but there’s no mistaking the threat.

Shane holds his stare for a long moment before he shrugs, tucking his hands back into his pockets as he takes another step back.

“Welcome home,” he offers coolly.

Aaron tips his chin in a slight nod, grinning a smile that might as well be a ‘fuck you’. “You take care, mate. I’ll see ya around.”

Cain taps his fingertip once against Aaron’s chest in a silent warning. Aaron doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t look away from Shane until the doors close behind him. Silence lingers over the small crowd inside the pub for another long, tense moment. Chas and Robert both step closer to Aaron to check on him, but Cain’s already right next to him and he leans in, murmuring something in Aaron’s ear.

Whatever he says, Aaron catches his gaze and nods in response, his jaw clenched hard enough for a muscle to twitch. His eyes are still full of wildfire but he inhales deeply, visibly forcing himself to relax. Silently, he slips away, easing his way through the cluster of people until he can duck behind the bar and through to the back, out of sight.

Adam starts to follow, but Chas catches his arm, a small frown on her face. 

“Probably best to give him a minute, love,” she suggests. 

Robert shifts to face Cain. Anger throbs in his chest, sharp and aching in its intensity. Just the sight of Shane’s smug face makes him want to lash out, makes him want to ensure the prick doesn’t show up to antagonise Aaron again, but he’s trying to stick to Cain’s instructions to wait.

“So?” he demands, keeping his voice low. “What’s the plan?”

Cain shakes his head slightly. “Not yet.”

He frowns. “What? So Shane can just come swanning in whenever he wants? What if Aaron loses it?”

“He won’t. We’ll make sure of it.” Cain’s tone sharpens. “Just do what I tell ya, yeah? I’ve got it handled.”

Robert grits his teeth but nods. He knows pressing Cain won’t get him anywhere. He’d learnt his lesson when he tried blackmailing him. Cain’s a loose canon at the best of times and he’s never been Robert’s biggest fan. 

He gives Robert one last, warning look before he turns away to join Moira and Adam at the bar. Robert squeezes past Sam and Lisa so he can make his way through to the back room. The door is half open, so he walks straight inside. 

Aaron’s sat on the couch, shoulders hunched, head bent low. Frowning, Robert steps closer, reaching out to curve his hand over Aaron’s shoulder.

The reaction is instant and so fast that Robert doesn’t even catch the way Aaron snaps to his feet and twists, barely sees the swing of his arm before the punch is connecting. Pain explodes in his cheek and nose and he staggers back, reaching out to grasp at the cabinet to catch his balance. 

Stunned, he blinks, lifting a hand to his face. He can feel the hot, wet dribble of blood from his nose and he swipes at it, still reeling from the sudden burst of pain. He looks down at the red smear on his fingers before glancing up at Aaron.

He’s leaning heavily on the couch, face completely drained of colour as he presses a hand gently to his side, pain creasing his expression. He’d obviously wrenched his ribs by turning to punch Robert and he takes several gasping, harsh breaths, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck,” Robert breathes, stepping forward. “Are you okay?”

Aaron stumbles away from him until the back of his knees collide with the coffee table. He sinks down onto it, knocking aside an empty mug and a magazine, and hunches forward, hand tapping slightly at his chest as he tries to breathe.

Quickly, Robert rounds the couch and crouches in front of him. “Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

He does, gaze finding Robert’s and holding there, latching onto him like an anchor. Robert reaches out, makes sure Aaron can see his hands as he rests them carefully on his knees, rubbing gentle, soothing circles. He breathes in, slow and deliberate, and makes an encouraging sound in his throat when Aaron mimics the movement.

It takes a few minutes of focused breathing before Aaron settles into his own rhythm, the tension bleeding out of his posture. It leaves him shaking a little and he exhales slowly. Frowning, he reaches out, cupping Robert’s jaw. He tilts his face towards the light so he can examine his bloody nose.

“God,” he mutters. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It ain’t,” Aaron insists. “I hit ya.” 

“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” Robert replies. “Are you alright?”

“Am _I_ alright?” he repeats incredulously. “Rob, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Are your ribs okay? You didn’t make them worse?”

“I’m okay.” 

Robert frowns. “Except you’re not, though, are ya?”

Because he can see it. Now the panic has seeped away, he can see the absence of his beautiful partner. A ghost stares back at Robert in his place, gaze empty and haunted. Regret slashes across his expression as he looks at Robert’s nose again.

“I’m so sorry.”

Robert shakes his head. “Don’t. Just…just talk to me. What’s with the scared rabbit act?”

Aaron looks away. His eyes fill with tears and he sniffs slightly, running a shaking hand across his mouth. “It ain’t an act,” he says quietly.

Robert moves to sit on the couch so their faces are level. He takes Aaron’s hand in both of his own and ducks his head to catch Aaron’s gaze. 

“Tell me,” he encourages.

“There was this bloke.” 

“A McCormac?” Robert asks, and Aaron shakes his head.

“Nah. Nothing to do with them. His name’s Jason. He’s a thug. Got plenty of clout in there, too, a lot of people on his side ‘cause they’re too scared not to be under his thumb. I reckon his dad and our Cain have some kind of history, ‘cause he wasn’t impressed when I said my last name. And then he found out I’m gay.”

Robert swallows. “So he battered ya?”

Aaron smiles grimly. “Not to start with. He liked to corner me, get in my face. He made me scared to look over my shoulder in case he was there. He wanted to get into my head and he did. Then he found out what my surname _used_ to be. He knew about – about Gordon. About what he did. It only got worse after that. That’s the first time they gave me a kicking.”

Anger snaps through Robert. “Cowards,” he seethes. “All of ‘em.”

“Yeah, well. It was bad for a while. Got beat up a couple of times. Got into a couple of fights. After…after one of the worse ones, I just needed to escape it all for a while.” Aaron’s gaze slides away. “You don’t understand what it’s like in there. I wasn’t coping so I – I did what I had to in order to survive.”

Robert swallows. “What did you do?” he asks quietly. When he doesn’t answer, he urges, “Aaron?”

“I took some spice.”

“You _what_?”

“It took the edge off it all. The pain, the fear, all of it, it just all went away for a while. It’s the only way I got through it.” Aaron scratches at his hand with his thumbnail. “I stopped. I was getting involved in the wrong kind of stuff. I ended up doing favours _for_ Jason just to get my hands on some gear. So I kicked it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Robert demands. “Or _anyone_? Aaron, that stuff destroys people.” 

“I _know_,” he snaps. “I know, alright? But I _couldn’t_ tell ya. You were all worrying enough about me and it’s not like you could’ve done anything. I told ya, I stopped taking it. Your visits…they got me through, Robert. Thinking about you, and my mum, and Liv, thinking about everything I had waiting for me on the outside, that’s what I needed to get through it all. So I quit.”

Robert sits back, rubbing his hands over his face. Anger and disappointment curdles in his stomach and he hates it, hates knowing that Aaron got to that point, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. 

“You took it ‘cause of him. Jason. And when you stopped doing him favours, he, what? Put you in hospital?”

“No. No, that was…” Aaron takes a deep breath. “The day I wound up in hospital, Jason and his mates cornered me. They threw me into this empty cell. I was still trying to front it out, trying to act like I weren’t terrified, but I was. I was bricking it.” He inhales shakily, lifting a hand to swipe tears away from his face. “Long story short, it were his.” When Robert frowns, he clarifies, “Gordon’s. It was his cell.”

Horror and disgust cracks open in Robert’s chest. He reaches out without even really thinking about it, fingers finding the curve of Aaron’s neck, and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a second. A single tear skids down his cheek and he wipes it away roughly, careless of his tender cheekbone.

“He had me pinned in this cell, telling me all about Gordon, about – about how he made his life hell, just like he was doing to me. He told me that he’d given him an ultimatum: kill himself, or Jason would. He had me on my knees in there, staring up at where Gordon hung himself, and – and it broke me, Robert. He beat the shit out of me after and I just took it. ‘Cause he’d already got what he wanted. He got in here,” Aaron taps his temple, “And he _broke me_.”

“Aaron,” Robert whispers, heart aching. 

“The guards found me later, got me to the hospital,” Aaron adds quietly. “When I had to go back, I was kept separate ‘cause of my injuries. And now I’m out. But I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about it and when I do, it’s like – it’s like I can’t _breathe_, I can feel it all coming down on me and I just…I _can’t_. You know?”

“I know,” he says gently. “But you’re not alone, Aaron, not anymore. You’re home. I’m here. I’ve got ya. It’s going to be -.”

“Don’t,” he cuts him off sharply. “Don’t tell me that everything is gonna be okay, ‘cause it’s not, is it? Look at me. I _hit_ ya. I’m a mess.”

“You’ve been through hell. You’ve got some problems. We all have. But we’ll sort yours out, okay? We’ll fix them.” Robert draws closer, resting his forehead carefully against Aaron’s. “You and me, together. I’ll get you through this. I promise.”

Aaron swallows. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“I know. I’m sorry I scared you.”

He reaches up, holding on to Robert’s wrist. “I couldn’t do this without ya, you know.”

“Yeah, you could,” he argues. “But you don’t have to. ‘Cause I’m here. We all are.”

Aaron looks at him for a moment. “I wanted to hurt him,” he admits. “Shane. When I saw his smug face, I just wanted to throttle him. ‘Cause he put me in there. What happened with Jason is down to him. The anger I felt…” He trails off, swallowing.

“I know,” Robert says softly. “Me too. But we have to be smart, don’t we? Cain reckons he’s got a plan.”

“He does.”

“Yeah? Care to share? ‘Cause Cain won’t.”

“We have to wait a bit longer,” Aaron murmurs. “Wait until I’m better. And then we’re gonna have a chat with Shane.”

Robert suspects he knows exactly what kind of ‘chat’ Cain and Aaron will be having, but he isn’t overly against the idea. He’s concerned about how Shane will retaliate, worried about whether his family will react, but he trusts that Cain knows what he’s doing, trusts that he’s got a plan in place for that. 

And if it’s what needs to be done to get Shane to back off once and for all, Robert’s more than up for joining in with the chat, too. 

***

They don’t go back through to the bar. Aaron’s too raw after telling Robert about Jason, too exhausted to put on a smile and pretend to enjoy himself for his family’s benefit. 

Instead, Robert watches as Aaron swallows back his painkillers with some water, then follows him as he shuffles up to his bedroom, carrying Aaron’s bag for him. He sets it down by the bed and Aaron peels off his suit jacket, glancing over at him.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says quietly.

“I want to,” Robert replies, low but firm. 

“Rob -.”

“Once,” he cuts him off. “After months of not being with you, I got to share a bed with you just _once_ before I lost ya again. It’s been rough, going back to an empty bed, not being able to hold you or even text you. So I’m not going anywhere, okay? I want to stay. I promised you I’d be here, that I’d be there in the morning when you wake up in your own bed for the first time in months, and I will.”

Aaron’s silent for a long moment, gaze fixed on the neatly made bed. Then he nods slightly and turns away, rummaging in his drawers for clothes to sleep in. When he just piles the folded up shirt and boxers in his arms, however, and steps towards the door, Robert frowns.

“Where are you going?”

“For a shower,” he replies slowly. “If that alright with you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Robert gazes after him for a second before stripping down to his own boxers. He folds his clothes, setting them neatly on top of the dresser, and sits down on the end of the bed, waiting. Aaron takes a while, but Robert reckons he probably deserves the chance to indulge in it; he won’t have had a private, decent shower in months. 

When he returns, his hair is damp and curling slightly, skin slightly pink from the steam, and he’s already tugged on his boxers and long-sleeved shirt. He closes the door again and shoves his crumpled suit into the laundry basket.

Robert watches him. It’s not like Aaron to leave the room to undress, or to bother getting changed in the privacy of the bathroom rather than just return to the bedroom in a towel. He’s being deliberately casual, which almost always means he’s hiding something, and Robert has an awful, aching suspicion that he already knows what it is. 

“Show me your stomach,” he says quietly.

Aaron stops short. His face is turned away from Robert, hidden in shadow; the soft light from the lamp on the nightstand spills a warm, hazy glow over the broad line of his shoulders and sharp curve of his jaw. Robert watches him take a deep, slow breath, waiting silently.

“Why?” he finally asks.

“You know why.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m fine.”

“Then show me your stomach.”

Slowly, Aaron turns to face him properly, stepping closer. There’s a frown on his face, mouth turned down slightly, but he reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly peels it up a few inches to expose his stomach.

To Robert’s relief, the scars lining his abdomen are old and faded. But there _are_ bruises, still vivid, smudged across his stomach. The worst of it is mottled over his ribs, raw and awful looking still, a swath of it right over the two ribs that had been cracked. Swallowing, Robert reaches out, resting gentle fingertips against the bruising. Aaron’s skin is hot and tight to the touch and he holds still, jaw squared.

“I didn’t want to worry ya, okay?” he says. “It’s fine.”

Robert nods slightly. “I thought…”

“That I was cutting again?”

“Last time, you thought about killing yourself,” he reminds him quietly. “What Jason put ya through is enough to send your head spinning. So, yeah, I thought that, maybe…maybe you might have done something drastic.”

“I nearly did.”

The admission has Robert’s gaze snapping up to Aaron’s face. “What?”

“I got my hands on a blade,” he replies, low and even. “And, yeah, I thought about it. About cutting myself.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No. Because of you. Because of Liv. I thought about you, waiting for me. You were scheduled to visit the next day and I thought to myself, ‘I’m seeing him tomorrow. I’m gonna be out soon. I can do it.’ So I did it. I made myself cope.” He pauses, then shrugs slightly. “Besides, I didn’t want to give Jason the satisfaction. After everything it took to stop, I wasn’t gonna go back to hurting myself ‘cause of him. My way of saying ‘fuck you’ to him, I suppose. It don’t make sense, but -.”

“It does,” Robert says. “It really does. And I’m proud of ya.”

Aaron lets his shirt slide down again and reaches out, cupping Robert’s face. “Thank you. For being there. For refusing to give up on me.”

“You didn’t give up on me, either,” he points out. “You didn’t give up on us. I could never give up on you, Aaron. I love you.”

“I know,” Aaron drifts his thumb along Robert’s jaw. “I love ya too.”

Robert stands, pressing a careful, brief kiss to Aaron’s lips. He craves more, wants to just lose himself in Aaron, but he isn’t willing to risk making any of his injuries sore. Aaron kisses him back, fingers lingering on Robert’s face, tracing his cheekbone like he’s something precious before he reluctantly pulls back.

They climb into bed together. Robert leans over to switch off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and Aaron makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat.

“Can ya…” he hesitates, then asks, “Can ya open the curtains?”

He doesn’t question it, just slides back out of bed to cross the room and tug open the curtains. Moonlight spills in through the window, slanting a pale swath across the room and bed; it reaches towards Aaron like a bony finger, dipping half of his face into shadow and limning the other half with soft, hazy light.

Robert gets it immediately. Aaron had mentioned once, briefly, during one of Robert’s visits, that his cell was always pitch black at night; moonlight never seemed to penetrate the frosted glass and metal bars of the narrow window in there. He’d hated it. 

Climbing back into bed, Robert rolls to face Aaron, watches as he shifts around until he finds a position that’s somewhat comfortable for his sore ribs. 

“Alright?” he checks quietly.

“S’weird,” Aaron admits. “Being back in me own bed. It’s…”

“Yeah?” 

“It’s comfier. Better. I missed it.” He drags his fingers across the sheets until they find Robert’s wrist. “I missed _you_.”

“I missed you more.”

One corner of Aaron’s mouth tugs into a bitter smile. “I doubt it.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Pale eyes flit to Robert’s face, searching his expression for a second. Then he nods, fingers curling more securely around Robert’s wrist. He closes his eyes and it isn’t long before his breath evens out and deepens, face going slack in his slumber. He looks younger when he’s asleep, expression sloughed of the stoic grief worn into it from too many years of anger and despair. He looks his age, soft and peaceful, and Robert watches him for a while, heedless of his own tiredness and the fact that Aaron would probably accuse him of being creepy if he found out.

Finally, when the rest of the pub falls silent and the only thing that matters is the quiet, steady sound of Aaron breathing and the solid warmth of his fingers around Robert’s wrist, Robert allows himself to close his eyes and drift under.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: mention of injuries; some angst (regarding Robert's childhood and Sarah's death); explicit sexual content; mention of scars and past self-harm; mention of past violence (Aaron's past with Sandra and Paddy); brief mention of self-hatred and gallows humour; mention of therapy; mention of an implied death by burning (discussion of Sarah's death and the barn it happened in).

Robert wakes slowly, clawing his way out of the best, deepest, most peaceful sleep he’s had in months. He can feel a hand on his arm, fingertips tracing idle patterns on the inside of his wrist, and it tickles but he doesn’t pull away, savouring the gentle, easy touch. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds Aaron’s gaze on him, and he smiles slightly. 

“Were you watching me sleep? Bit creepy.”

“Did you know you drool?” Aaron replies without missing a beat. 

Robert snorts. “I don’t.” Pushing up on one elbow, he checks the time; it’s nearly nine. “How long have you been up?”

“Since seven.” Aaron shrugs slightly. “I’m used to waking up a certain time.”

Robert rolls over to face him properly. He remembers Aaron telling him about always being up at seven, scoffing down the breakfast that were delivered to cells every night to be eaten the following morning, making sure he’d eaten before doors were unlocked at eight. 

Reaching out, he grazes his knuckles gently over the side of Aaron’s face that isn’t bruised. “It’ll take some time to get back out of that routine, I suppose,” he murmurs. “But you’re home now.”

“Yeah.” Aaron’s quiet for a moment before he says, “When I first woke up, there was this moment where I just – I thought it wasn’t real, that it was a dream. That I was back inside, waking up in that cell, going through it all again. And then you kicked me,” he grins as he says it, gaze soft, “And reminded me that I’m home, in bed with a prat who, for some reason, likes to kick in his sleep.”

Robert smiles, shifting closer. “Least I don’t snore.”

“Much,” Aaron quips. 

Closing the distance between them, Robert brushes a brief, feather-light kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. Aaron leans into it, sighing slightly, eyes drifting shut, and it has Robert’s heart throbbing with tenderness in his chest. It’s ridiculous how in love with his man he really is.

“How are your ribs?” he asks. 

“Fine.”

“Which in Aaron-speak means ‘not great’,” he says dryly. “Come on. Take your painkillers and I’ll pop the kettle on.”

They shuffle out of bed. Robert fixes the sheets and duvet, neatly making the bed, ignoring the way Aaron watches him in fond amusement. Unlike Robert, he tends to be happy leaving the bed a mess, since, in his opinion, it’ll just get rumpled again later when he sleeps in it again. 

He dresses in his jeans but borrows one of Aaron’s grey jumpers, and they both head downstairs. Chas is already up, but barely, her hair a mess and exhaustion creasing her face as she slumps at the table, still in her fluffy dressing gown, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. She blinks and sits upright when she sees them, however.

“Morning,” she greets. “You disappeared last night, love.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Aaron replies. “I just…it got a bit much.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. Take as much time as you need.” She stands, smoothing her hand over his hair. “I missed ya, is all.” 

“Yeah. I missed you too.”

“I’m glad you’re home. We all are.” She hugs him, careful of his ribs, pulling back as she adds, “Sit. I’ll make a brew.”

“I’ll do it,” Robert offers. “You look knackered.”

“Cheers,” she says. “I can always count on you to flatter me.” But it’s said fondly, full of amusement, and she sits back down at the table. “Thanks, love.”

Aaron looks between the two of them, looking mildly surprised by the fact that they’re getting on. Robert just shrugs, smiling slightly, and the relieved, happy look on Aaron’s face is well worth the weeks of hassle of winning Chas and the rest of the Dingle lot over. Aaron’s his family, which means the rest of them are too. 

He hands Aaron a glass of water and busies himself with making two cuppas while Aaron swallows down his painkillers. He sets the mugs down and pops four slices of bread into the toaster, then leans against the counter. Aaron’s hair is soft and a little fluffy from being slept on, no gel slicking it down, and Robert can’t resist reaching out, running idle fingers through it. Aaron slants him a look but doesn’t pull away, and Chas grins.

“Aw. Look at you lovebirds.”

Aaron pulls a face and lifts his mug to his mouth, blowing at the surface to cool it slightly before he takes a sip. The toaster pops and Robert reluctantly pulls away to butter the slices, passing a plate full of toast to Aaron before slathering his own with jam. He sits down, gently nudging his knee against Aaron’s under the table.

“So,” Chas says. “You’re home. Plans?”

“Dunno,” Aaron mutters. “See if there’s any paperwork I can do up at the yard, I suppose. I can’t do much else up there until my ribs are better. Other than that, I have no idea.”

“Well, if you have some free time,” Charity remarks, sauntering into the room, “You could always help out in the bar.”

Chas frowns. “He’s supposed to be resting his ribs, not doing you favours, you lazy mare.”

“Oi,” she snips back. “He can pull a pint, can’t he? Nowt strenuous about it.” She slaps Aaron gently on his shoulder with the back of her hand. “What do you think, love?”

Aaron raises his eyebrows. “Right, ‘cause hanging round here with you lot is definitely how I want to spend my first day home, innit?”

Charity gives Chas an incredulous look. “Ungrateful runt, isn’t he?”

Chas just smiles. “Can’t say I blame him. No offence.”

Charity shakes her head and turns to Robert. “Right, then. What about you?” 

“Not a chance.”

She throws her hands up slightly in exasperation and leans over, stealing Robert’s cup of tea. He raises his eyebrows but lets it go, and she leaves the room, slurping obnoxiously as she goes. Aaron wordlessly nudges his own tea over to Robert.

“Liv’s coming up this weekend,” Chas says. “She wanted to be here yesterday, but -.”

“School,” Aaron finishes. “Yeah, no, it’s okay. She shouldn’t bunk off anymore.”

“She tried to. Had a train ticket booked and everything, according to Sandra. She had to escort her to school just to make sure she went.” Chas shakes her head. “She’s a terror, that one. But she loves ya. She really wanted to be here for you.”

“I’ll call her later,” Aaron promises. “I’ve missed her.”

Chas smiles. “I know you have, love. She missed you too.”

Once they’ve finished breakfast, Robert clears up, earning himself a pat on the shoulder from Chas when he washes up as well. She heads upstairs to get washed and dressed for the day and Aaron looks over at Robert with a smirk.

“You’ve been sucking up, haven’t ya?” he says. 

Robert shrugs. “She’s your mum. I want her to like me.”

“She does,” he replies, then adds, “Surprisingly.”

“Oh, cheers.”

“Not so sure about Paddy, though.”

“No,” Robert agrees. “He’s been pretty clear about what he thinks of me.”

“I’ll have a word,” Aaron offers.

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I can handle it. You like me. That’s more than enough.”

“I…tolerate ya. Most days.” Aaron grins, getting to his feet. “Come here.”

Robert does, his hands moving to Aaron’s waist, and he closes his eyes as Aaron’s mouth finds his. The kiss is careful, gentle on account of Aaron’s sore lip, but it’s everything Robert needs. When Aaron finally pulls away, Robert follows for a second, brushing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before he hugs him, hold loose so he doesn’t jostle Aaron’s ribs. He feels Aaron’s face against his shoulder and tucks his own head in, pressing a little kiss to Aaron’s neck.

***

He drops Aaron off at the scrapyard.

Adam looks surprised but pleased to see his best mate and he ushers him into the portacabin with promises of a brew, and Robert knows that Aaron’s not going to be allowed to do anything but paperwork, not while Adam’s about.

He spends most of the morning with a client, grabbing a quick lunch in town before he drives back to Emmerdale for another appointment. This one he’s excited about, and a little nervous, and, admittedly, slightly uncertain, too.

Pulling up outside Melby Farm, he sees a sleek silver car already parked on the long driveway; the estate agent’s already here. Climbing out, Robert locks up and approaches the bloke hovering near the front door. He’s dressed in a sharp suit and he offers a polite smile, holding out his hand.

“Mr Sugden?” he asks, smile widening when Robert nods. “Brilliant, lovely to meet you. I’m Lewis Myers. We spoke on the phone.”

Robert nods, shaking his hand. “Right. Nice to meet you.”

Lewis lets go and tucks his folder under one arm, fishing a set of keys out of his pocket with his free hand. “Shall we?” 

Robert nods again, watching as Lewis unlocks the front door to the house and steps inside. Following, Robert tucks his hands into the pocket, looking around the narrow entranceway. Lewis is professional and enthusiastic as he gives the tour, not that Robert really needs one; the layout of the house hasn’t changed at all. 

The décor is different, however, and there’s no furniture, except for the fixed pieces. The farm has been empty for months now, since the last owners went bankrupt and left the village. It had been auctioned off and the new owner has rejuvenated the décor and fixed up some of the damage to the barns, ready to sell the property off again for a higher profit. 

It’s strange to walk around the house. He’d expected it to feel like being inside a graveyard. He’d expected to feel too many ghosts lingering between the bones and guts of the house, too many memories filling the old, weary building. And there are traces of that, faint echoes of his dad by the fireplace, napping after a long day on the fields, a hazy memory of his mum in the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands and sunshine playing in her hair. It hurts, but it’s a cleansing sort of hurt, and Robert relaxes, slowly but surely beginning to feel that his decision to buy the property is the right one.

Once the tour of the house is done, Lewis leads him out to show him the barns and pastures. He consults his folder as they walk.

“The property is just over eight hundred acres,” he says. “There are four crop fields and three pastures, three barns, a cow-shed, and a stable. All of this is included in the asking price.” He pauses, glancing over at Robert. “Do you have a background in farming?”

Robert smiles slightly. “You could say that.”

“You’ll be running the farm yourself, then?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Not really my thing anymore. I’ll probably rent out the house and farm. But that,” he gestures to the barn furthest away from the house. “I want to renovate it.” 

Lewis raises his eyebrows. “Interesting,” he remarks. “Could work. There’s plenty of land between it and the rest of the property. With a fence or wall bordering it off, you’d have privacy. Might be tricky getting planning permission, though.”

Robert shrugs. He knows it won’t be easy getting it all sorted, and he knows it will take a hell of a lot of time, effort and money, but he’s willing to spend all three. He has the funds now to sink into the place and, all going well, he’ll get a return profit off the farm by renting it out to a farming family. It feels right, like being home but also having the distance he needs from certain memories, and the thought of converting the barn feels right. 

He just hopes Aaron agrees.

***

The second Liv sees Aaron waiting on the platform, she’s on her feet, moving towards the doors even though the train is still crawling to a stop. Once the doors finally slide open, she’s off, crossing the short distance between them. 

Aaron grins. “Come ‘ere.” 

She smiles back and hugs him, tight at first until she senses him wince. He cups the back of her head with one hand, smoothing it over her hair as he hugs her back, happiness clear on his face. It’s a good look on him.

“I missed ya,” he says.

Liv pulls back. “You only saw me the other week.”

“Yeah, and I still missed ya.”

She grins. “I missed you too, you idiot.” 

She’s weighed down with a weekend bag and a backpack. Robert reaches out, taking the weekend bag, and slings the strap over his own shoulder.

“Hey, brat,” he greets. 

Liv looks at him. “You still crashing at your sister’s place?” 

He shrugs and retorts, “You still failing maths?”

She grins then and steps closer, leaning into the side hug he gives her. Aaron looks between them, a small smile on his face, and he places a hand on Liv’s shoulder, guiding her out of the station. He’s still not good to drive, so they’d taken Robert’s car, and Liv pulls a face when she has to squish into the back. 

“How are your ribs?” she asks, once they’re on the road.

“Spare,” Aaron quips, smirking when she groans at the terrible joke. “Nah, they’re alright.”

Liv’s gaze flicks to Robert, one eyebrow raised, and he smiles slightly.

“By which he means: they hurt, but he’s managing it,” he tells her.

She nods slightly. “So you’re not able to work at the yard?”

“I’ve been doing paperwork,” Aaron replies. “Adam doesn’t mind.”

“I could help,” she offers. “I like it there.”

“You like bashing things to bits,” he corrects. “Which, frankly, is a bit disturbing, actually. Some things need a bit more precision, ya know.”

“What?” she says flatly. “You mean using a crowbar rather than a metal pipe?”

Robert snorts and Aaron shakes his head, smiling, before he switches the subject, asking Liv how she’s doing in school. She pulls a face and makes a snipe about getting enough grief from her mum without her brother doing her head in and all, but she does answer, catching him up on how she’s doing in various subjects. 

Aaron listens, nudging now and then for more information, and Robert can’t help but smile. He thinks about the Aaron he first met, thinks about the Aaron he never knew but who Vic told him about, the gobby, reckless, angry teenager who lashed out at anyone and anything given enough provocation. It’s kind of incredible to see how far he’s come and a little funny to see him now being a role model, being all sensible and concerned about his sister’s academic success. 

Liv grumbles and complains, but when Robert glances at her in the rear-view mirror, he can tell from her expression that she doesn’t mind nearly as much as she’s putting on. She appreciates it, appreciates that she has a brother like Aaron who genuinely cares and, most importantly, doesn’t judge her while he’s doing it.

_Family_, Robert thinks, and feels warmth and happiness blossom in his chest.

When they reach the Woolpack and Robert parks, Liv grabs her bags and hurries in to greet Chas, but Aaron lingers, gently catching Robert’s elbow to hold him back, too.

“Hey,” he says. “Thanks. For looking out for her while I were away, I mean.”

Robert shrugs. “She’s your sister, which makes her my family, too. And she’s not all that bad. In small doses. Sort of.”

Aaron huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Seriously, though. Thank you.”

He cups the back of Aaron’s neck, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead. “No problem.” 

When they head inside the pub, Liv’s already perched on one of the stools at the bar, a glass of Coke and a packet of crisps in front of her. She’s chatting away to Chas and Charity, who both lean against the other side of the bar, their faces set in eerily matching expressions of fond amusement. 

Robert knows that Chas, as firm as she is when Liv acts out while staying at the pub, has a soft spot for her; she loves Liv as if she’s her own. Charity, too, likes Liv. She’d once told Robert and Chas that Liv reminded her of herself, which had been pretty terrifying to think about, actually. It’s good to see, though. It’s good for _Aaron_ to see. 

Aaron had told him that when he’d first returned to Emmerdale, he’d felt like he had no one. And now he has a huge family. He’s surrounded by people who genuinely love and care about him. And they care about him not only because of his surname, not just because of his blood, but because he genuinely is deserving of all that love.

Robert used to envy it, a little. He has Vic and he reckons Diane cares about him, in her own way. He and Andy get along pretty well these days, since Robert helped out a fair bit up at Butlers. But he’s always felt like an outsider, even in his home, even within his own family. His mum had been the only one who never made him feel like that, which is a little ironic, actually, considering he wasn’t biologically hers. 

But he doesn’t feel like that now. Because somewhere, somehow, he became part of this huge, mental, chaotic family. He’s not a Dingle by name (though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t fully plan to be someday; Aaron’s _it_ for him), but he is through love, and despite everything he’s done, despite their ups and downs and the fact that most of the Dingles have hated his guts at one point or another, he’s one of them now, because he’s Aaron’s. 

It isn’t the huge house on the hill. It isn’t a family business and an inherited fortune. It isn’t Chrissie. It isn’t the life or family he’d ever expected for himself. But it’s the one he’s always craved, the one he’s always needed, and it’s the only one he wants now. 

It’s the life and family that completes him.

***

May drifts, slow and hazy, into June, and a heatwave smothers Emmerdale.

Robert usually prefers summer, loves the sunshine and warmth, but the temperatures are almost intolerable. No clouds break the searing blue of the sky and the sun beats down, harsh and ruthless. There’s no wind, either, not even a gentle breeze to offer relief from the thick, sticky heat that feels like a shroud. It clings like cotton in Robert’s lungs, leaves his skin damp and uncomfortable, and he finds himself wishing for a rainy spell, just for a break from the heat.

Aaron, who usually prefers winter, or any weather where he can wear his hoodies and jeans, tolerates the heatwave even less than Robert. He’s grumpy, fluctuating between sullen silence and sniping at anyone and everyone, and it’s a bloody good job that Robert adores him, because the surliness gets very old, very fast.

Nine days into the heatwave, however, Robert wakes up, tangled in the thin sheet they’ve been sleeping under, and finds Aaron already awake and smiling. 

Instantly, he’s suspicious. “What?”

“Good morning to you and all,” Aaron replies. 

“Morning,” Robert says, then repeats, “What?”

He shifts closer, resting a hand on Robert’s bare chest. “Everyone’s out. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

Reaching out, Robert drags his thumb gently along Aaron’s jaw, feeling the scrape of his stubble. “Oh yeah?”

Aaron just grins and leans in, pressing his smile against Robert’s mouth. Closing his eyes, Robert leans into it, hand moving to the side of Aaron’s neck. 

The bruises have gone. The worst of them had lingered, but, finally, even those had faded, along with the cuts. His cheekbone had healed up nicely, but his ribs had been tender for a while. They’d messed around a little, doing what they could without making Aaron’s ribs sore, but it’s clear from the impatient press of Aaron’s body and the greediness of his hands exploring Robert’s skin that he’s finally ready for more.

It’s still pretty early in the morning, but the room is already boiling; they kick the sheet down around their ankles and Aaron flicks on the desk fan perched precariously on his nightstand, but it does little to cool down the heated, stale air. It makes Robert feel a little feverish, like he can’t drag in a proper lungful of air, and it’s dizzying and intoxicating as they fuck slow, skin slick with sweat, mouths inches apart, sharing breath as their bodies move at a passionate, unhurried pace. 

Aaron’s face twists in pleasure as he pushes inside Robert, eyes closed and lips parted, and Robert holds onto him, digs his fingertips into damp skin and arches up into every thrust, craves every searing, loving touch even as the thick heat and still air borders on being too uncomfortable for sex. He finishes first, spilling between them, and Aaron presses his face into Robert’s throat, mouthing lazily there as he grunts and spends himself into the condom. He kisses Robert properly after, still inside him even as he softens, his kiss slow and sweet.

“Okay?” he checks breathlessly, and it slams into Robert, hard and heavy and glorious, the sheer amount of love and fondness he feels for Aaron.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse; he’d gotten pretty loud towards the end. “Yeah, I’m okay. You? Are your ribs alright?”

“Didn’t even feel ‘em,” Aaron replies and smiles as he dips in again, teasing a feather-light kiss across Robert’s mouth. “Love you.”

Robert squeezes the back of his neck gently. “I love ya.”

Aaron kisses him one last time, soothing him as he pulls out. Robert spreads out, watching as Aaron disposes of the condom, just savouring the view. Aaron’s always gorgeous, but with his skin flushed and gleaming with sweat, limned by the sunshine bearing in through the window, he looks like art. 

Robert knows he should shower. The cooling come on his stomach is tacky and gross and he feels sticky in a way that’s pretty unpleasant. The sheets could probably do with a wash, too. The thought of a cleansing, cool shower is bliss, but to get to that point he has to actually get up and move, and he’s less excited about that part of the process.

Aaron stretches, back arching slightly. Robert watches the way his muscles tighten, admires his taut stomach and the strength of his thighs and shoulders as he pops his spine. He remembers numerous times back during the affair when Aaron would keep his shirt on during sex, after Robert stupidly made the scathing comment about a boating accident. He still wants to shake himself for the ugly bullshit he'd spouted that day at the scrapyard about Aaron and his scars, caught up in his anger and rejection and doing what he does best: push people away. He’d hurt the man he loves so much that the expression on Aaron’s face, raw and furious, is branded into his memory. But now, here Aaron is, unselfconscious about his body and his scars, happy to have them exposed when he’s around Robert, and that easy trust isn’t something Robert takes lightly. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

Aaron slants him a look, amused. “Yeah, alright. Give me a bit before we go another round, yeah?”

Robert frowns. “No, really. I mean it.”

“I know. I was joking.” Aaron kneels on the bed, knee-walking closer to Robert. “D’you have plans today?”

He shrugs. “Should probably get some admin done. I have some emails to answer, too, and -.”

Aaron cuts him off with a kiss. “Right. Any plans that you can’t reschedule?”

“For you? I can reschedule anything. What have you got in mind?”

“Your birthday.”

Robert pauses. “Was in April,” he says slowly, a little stung, but he supposes they’ve never actually spent one of his birthdays together. 

“I know that, you berk. But I was in prison, weren’t I? I missed it.” Aaron’s brow furrows slightly. “I’m sorry. That I missed it, I mean. That I wasn’t here to celebrate with ya.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I had an alright day, actually. Vic cooked a family dinner to celebrate. Chas even gave me a free pint, which I’m pretty sure means I’m her favourite now. No offence.”

Aaron snorts, shaking his head. “Seriously, though. I’m sorry.” He reaches out, pushing Robert’s sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. “So, take the day off and spend it with me instead? What d’ya think?”

“Hm. Tedious admin or belated birthday celebrations with my boyfriend. Let me think about that one.”

Aaron doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t think too hard, yeah? You might break something.” 

Grinning, Robert pushes up onto one elbow so he can kiss him. “What you got planned?”

“Well. Pretty much all of my plans involve not moving from this bed all day.”

Lashing an arm around Aaron’s waist, Robert rolls them until Aaron’s on his back. Hovering over him, he keeps his weight off Aaron by leaning on one forearm, his free hand finding a home on Aaron’s jaw as he kisses him, slow and deep.

“Sounds lazy,” he murmurs. 

Aaron smirks. “Trust me, there won’t be _anything_ lazy about what I have planned for you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Robert pauses to nip at his lip gently. “Now _that_ sounds like fun. And cheap. A stroke of genius, really.”

“Oi,” Aaron says. “I did get you a present, actually.”

“Yeah? Do I get it now, or later?”

“Up to you,” he replies, eyes sparkling as he drags his fingertips up Robert’s thigh. “But I reckon I know which present you’d prefer first.”

He’s completely right. Grinning, Robert kisses him again, full of heat and intent as he grinds his hips down, and Aaron’s hands come up, holding on to him as he kisses him back.

Later, when they’re breathless and even stickier, Aaron leans over and yanks open the bottom drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a wrapped present. Rolling onto his back again, he hands it over to Robert before scooting to lean back against the pillows, head pillowed on his crossed arms. 

Robert makes quick work of the shoddy wrapping job, setting the crumpled paper aside. Inside is a plain box; he breaks the seal and opens the lid, pulling out a white ceramic mug. The sides are blank but, when he turns it over, he sees that on the bottom there’s the word ‘prat’ printed in big capital letters and an arrow positioned so that when he drinks from the mug, it’ll be pointed in his direction.

“Nice,” he remarks dryly. “You know you got me a mug for Christmas and all?”

“Ungrateful bastard,” Aaron accuses. “Anyway, this mug is special.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it goes with this.” 

He leans over Robert, collecting something from the wrapping paper, something Robert had missed entirely. He sits back again and opens his hand. There’s a small silver key resting on his palm, right over the faint silvery scars creasing his skin.

“I reckoned you’d need your own mug to put in the kitchen cupboard,” he says casually. “’Cause otherwise, you have to make do with the communal ones and, trust me, no matter how hard you scrub ‘em, the taste of Charity’s bathtub booze is still there.” 

Robert stares at him. “Wait, are you…are you asking me to move in with ya?”

“Yeah.” Aaron shrugs slightly. “I already cleared it with mum, if that’s what you’re worried about. She won’t kick off. And Charity promised not to sneak any glances off you in the shower.”

He shudders slightly at the thought, but he can feel an incredulous, delighted smile tug at his mouth. “I don’t believe this.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So,” he drags the word out. “Is that a yes, or…?”

“No.”

Aaron blinks, jerking back slightly, hurt stark on his face before he quickly, effortlessly hides it. “Oh. Right.”

“No,” Robert says quickly. “I mean, I’m not saying no. Just…I need to take you somewhere. I want to show ya something.”

He stares, a frown on his face, as Robert scrambles off the bed.

“Come on,” Robert encourages. “We’re rank. We need to shower before we go.”

“Go _where_?” 

“It’s a surprise.”

“You still haven’t said if you’ll move in with me or not,” Aaron points out, tone a little sullen.

Grinning, Robert approaches the bed again, bending to kiss him, hard and quick. “Yeah, I’ll move in with ya. Now come on.”

Jerking a thumb at the rumpled sheets next to him, Aaron frowns at him. “What, you don’t wanna celebrate?”

“Yeah, and we will,” Robert promises. “_Later_. Hurry up.”

He shakes his head, slanting Robert a dubious, slightly suspicious glance as he climbs off the bed, but he grabs his towel and leaves the room, so Robert doesn’t mind much.   
Aaron is, thankfully, quick, returning with the towel around his waist and damp hair. Robert kisses him quickly before disappearing into the bathroom to take his own shower.

He turns the temperature even lower than Aaron had it, the coolness a relief on his heated skin. There’s a bottle of his shower gel still on the shelf, left behind from his last overnight stay; quarter of it is gone. Aaron pretends he thinks it’s needlessly expensive and pretentious, but Robert knows he uses it occasionally, just ‘cause it smells like Robert, and he likes smelling like Robert.

Robert won’t lie: he likes it, too. 

But he reckons the missing amount isn’t down to Aaron and pulls a face. Noah, the little brat. Shaking his head, he washes quickly, scrubbing away the sweat and come on his skin. He dries off and heads into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s already dressed, but he’s stolen Robert’s shirt from the night before. He doesn’t mind; he likes seeing Aaron in his clothes, likes the way the thin material strains slightly at Aaron’s shoulders and upper arms. Pulling on his trousers, he snags one of Aaron’s T-shirts from the dresser.

Aaron drags a towel over his hair to dry it. When he reaches for his bottle of hair gel, Robert reaches out, stopping him with his hands on Aaron’s waist.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “I like your hair like this.”

The longer locks on top are soft and fluffy, ever so slightly curly. It suits him. Robert runs one hand through it and Aaron rolls his eyes.

“Right, ‘cause your opinion is the only one that matters,” he snarks.

Robert just grins. “I’ll suck you off later,” he offers.

“You will anyway.”

He has a point. Robert fucking loves giving Aaron blowjobs, surprisingly more than he likes to receive them. He’s never been selfish in bed; he likes to make his partner feel good, likes to give them as much pleasure as he possibly can while chasing his own orgasm. But that desire to give is even stronger with Aaron. 

“I’ll cook dinner, then.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Nah, it’s alright. It’s your birthday. No hair gel and I’ll cook dinner.”

“You really know how to treat a bloke,” Robert remarks, grinning. 

“I was about to offer a blowjob and all, but if you’re gonna be sarcy…”

He quickly rearranges his expression into something suitably contrite. “No, no. I appreciate it.”

Aaron snorts. “Yeah, ‘course you do.” He bends to tie his shoelaces, then straightens as he adds, “Right. Show me this big surprise, then.”

***

When Robert pulls up outside the house at Melby Farm, Aaron just looks up at it, then glances over at him in confusion.

“A farm?” he asks. “That’s your surprise?”

“Yep.”

“A farm,” he repeats.

“Yeah. A farm that I officially now own. I bought it.”

Aaron blinks. “You bought this place? How the hell did you afford that?”

Robert shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “A mixture of some smart investments paying off and actually having a bloody good income now, thanks to being the world’s best businessman.” 

“I never should have got you that mug,” Aaron says dryly. “Your ego’s getting too big for this car.”

“Guess I’ll have to upgrade, then,” he quips. “So, what do you think?”

He sits forward, peering up at the house. “I dunno. I mean, no offence, I get that you were raised a farmboy and all, but I just don’t see you actually running a farm.”

“Good, because I’m not. I’d rather watch paint dry.” 

“Buying a farm might’ve been a bit counterintuitive, then.”

“I’m gonna do it up and then rent it out. Make a profit off the rent, maybe look at having a stake in the farm itself and its profits, too. It depends on who wants to run the place, I suppose.”

“You’re going into the landlord business?” Aaron says, raising his eyebrows slightly. 

“Yeah. But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Come on.”

He climbs out and Aaron follows. Robert watches him look around as they walk, taking in the property with a curious expression. 

“It’s where I grew up,” he says after a moment. “Sort of, anyway. Our first farm got condemned ‘cause of subsidence. A lot of the land could be salvaged so we still farmed on it, but we ended up moving into this place.” 

“And you’re gonna rent it out?” Aaron asks.

He shrugs. “I’m not bothered about the house or the land.”

Aaron frowns slightly, confused, but he falls silent as they keep walking. Robert leads him away from the main hub of the farm, off down an overgrown track to the barn close to the edge of the property. When he’d been a kid, the barn hadn’t been used much except for storage or repairs, since it was such a trek away from the rest of the farm. He doesn’t know how it was used after they moved on, but the bloke who had bought it at the action had done it up, repairing it to make it safe again before selling.

It’s not too big and pretty old, made of worn stone, with a slate roof. It has a set of huge wooden barn doors and a few narrow windows without panes. The grass around it is overgrown, covering the little lane leading up to the building. Robert leads the way up the path and tugs a set of keys from his pocket, finding the right one to fit the padlock on the doors. 

Inside, it’s pretty dark, the gloom penetrated only by beams of sunlight slanting through the windows, spilling blades of golden light across the floor. It’s empty, but the smell of damp, sun-scorched dust and hay remains, thick in the air. It’s stuffy, too much heat trapped inside, the stone walls not doing much to cool the place down. 

“So,” Robert says. “What do you think?”

Aaron shrugs. “I think it’s a barn.”

“Yeah, cheers, Sherlock. This is my future home you’re talking about.”

“You’re gonna live here? In a barn?” he says dubiously. “Are you daft?”

“Well, it’s gonna be renovated, obviously. Converted into a suitable house.” 

“Oh,” Aaron says. “Sound.”

“I know it’s a bit sentimental and sappy. But the barn up at Wylie’s, that was always our place, wasn’t it?” He smiles. “Our own little world.”

Aaron looks at him. “I suppose.”

He huffs a laugh. “Aaron, I’m trying to ask you to move in with me.”

He blinks, looking around again before meeting Robert’s gaze. “This is…definitely a surprise.”

“Are you turning me down?”

“Will you change your mind about the barn if I do?” 

Robert lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “No. I’ve already bought the farm. I know this is the right move for me. I’d like you to be a part of it. I want to live with you, Aaron. Here. In our own little world, one we create together. I want a future with you, all of it. But I’m a patient man. So I can wait.”

Aaron swallows and steps away, walking further inside the barn. His footsteps echo in the empty space. 

“You can really afford it? To renovate it and everything?” he asks.

Robert nods. “Yeah. Might take some time to get it all done, but, yeah. Trust me.”

“What about planning permission and all that?”

“Already obtained. Permission came through a few days ago, all the paperwork has been sorted.”

He turns, frowning slightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because the definition of a surprise is, generally, that its, you know, _surprising_,” Robert points out dryly. “I was waiting for the right time to ask ya. I wanted it to be perfect. But, naturally, you had to get in there first and throw a wrench in my plans. But I reckon this _is_ perfect.” 

“It’s not bad,” Aaron agrees evenly, and Robert grins.

“You’re such a wind-up.”

Aaron turns away, folding his arms as he looks around, considering. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I can’t do anything towards it. It’s a lot of money, Rob. A lot of time and effort, too.”

“I’m sure,” he says firmly, wrapping his arms around Aaron from behind. “More sure than I’ve been about most things in my life, actually. I want this, and I want it with you.” He tips his chin slightly to kiss just below Aaron’s ear. “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

Happiness unfurls in Robert’s chest. He kisses Aaron’s throat. “Our own barn again,” he says. “And I reckon we can use it before renovations start, too.”

Aaron laughs slightly. “Get a mattress and you’re on.” 

Smiling, Robert pulls away. “We can design it together, if you want. And Liv can help out. I want her to have her own room for when she visits, so. She should get a say and all.”

Aaron turns, gazing at Robert for a long moment. “God, I love you.”

Robert smirks. “I know.” 

His eyes narrow. “Now who’s the wind-up?”

“I love you too, obviously.” Grinning, Robert leads him back out of the barn. “Like I said, it’ll take a while. So, my answer is ‘yes’, too. To moving in with you, I mean. Means I don’t have to stay living with my sister while we wait to move in here.”

“Yeah. Instead you’ll be living with my family.”

“Oh, yeah.” Robert pulls a face. “I didn’t think this through.”

“Oi!” 

“Nah, they’re alright. One on one. In small doses. Sort of.”

Aaron shakes his head. “You’ll be one of us someday, so I’d watch my mouth, if I were you.” 

He stops short, hands on the padlock, and looks up at Aaron. He watches Aaron’s expression freeze as he realises the implications in what he just said, his smile going tight.

“I mean,” he says. “Since we’ll be living together and all. I weren’t talking about marriage or anything like that.”

“Yeah. Bit of a big commitment.” Robert remarks.

“Right,” Aaron agrees, voice taut. “Yeah. I was just joking, it’s no big deal.”

Smiling, Robert finishes locking up and tucks the key in his pocket. With his hands now free, he cups Aaron’s face, kissing him firmly. Aaron responds instantly, mouth opening to the press of Robert’s tongue, hands fisting in Robert’s borrowed shirt.

Pulling back slightly, Robert murmurs, “Someday. But I’m not gonna drink from the wellie. That thing is a health hazard.”

Aaron smiles slightly, gazing at Robert for a long moment. “Back to the pub, then? We have some celebrating to do.”

He lets go, but takes Aaron’s hand, holding on as they walk. As they approach the main part of the farm again, Robert slows, nodding with his chin towards another barn. This one is all wood and it’s intact, completely repaired, but he still can’t look at it without tasting smoke and ash in his throat, without seeing charred, blackened walls or smelling burnt wood. 

Aaron follows his gaze. Understanding clears his expression. “Is that where…?” he trails off.

Robert swallows, nods. “Yeah.”

He gives Robert’s hand a quick, gentle squeeze. “What will you do with it?” he asks quietly.

“Tear it down. Raze it to the ground.” He knows the barn is basically completely new; it isn’t the same barn, not really, but in his head, it _is_, and it represents too much to stay up, to be full of hay or machinery or animals. 

“This part will be part of our property, not the rented land,” he adds. “I’m going to plant a small orchard. Apples. My mum always wanted one. She wanted to make her own cider. I reckoned I might give it a go.”

Aaron’s hand finds the middle of Robert’s back, anchoring him, gentle and reassuring. It soothes that shadow of grief in his heart, turns into something bittersweet and beautiful, an echo of love and happy memories instead of the blister of loss. Robert leans into it, closing his eyes for a second.

“I never would have had this, you know,” he says. “None of it. Not without you. You make me a better person.”

“I reckon you were a good enough person anyway,” Aaron replies. “Underneath it all.”

“With all the stuff I’ve done? Hardly.”

“Yeah? I hit my stepmum. I battered the bloke who took me in and looked after me, even though I was nothing to do with him. ‘Cause I was angry and scared. ‘Cause I was terrified of being rejected, so I did everything I could to push people away, because then _I_ was in control, not them.” Aaron shrugs slightly. “I’m not saying our situations were the same. But I know you, and I know you’re not what you did. You’ve always been a good person, underneath that anger and resentment. Now you’re just actually letting yourself be happy. That’s the difference. Not me.”

“Except I’m happy _because_ of you.”

“I’m not why you sorted things out with Vic and Andy, nor am I the reason why you’ve been civil with Chrissie lately.” Aaron pauses as they reach the car and turns to face him. “Look, stop with the self-hate, yeah? Leave it to the expert.” He gestures to himself.

Robert pulls a face. “It worries me when you joke like that, you know.”

“I know. Mum, Adam and Paddy don’t like it either. I think Cain’s the only one who gets it, really. That it’s how I deal with things.” 

“What does your counsellor think?”

He’s been having twice-weekly sessions since he got back from prison. Sometimes, Robert goes with him, for support or to talk about how he can help him, and sometimes Aaron needs to go on his own. Sometimes he talks about it after; other times, he prefers to keep it to himself, and Robert gets it. He sees the progress Aaron’s been making and he couldn’t be prouder.

“She calls it ‘gallows humour’,” Aaron replies. 

“Nice.”

Smiling, Aaron turns to look out over the farm. “So, which bit will be your property?”

“_Ours_,” Robert corrects him, then points. “You see that fence over there? By the big bush?”

“Yeah.”

“The border starts there. It’s a decent distance from the rest of the farm, so with a proper fence or wall, our bit will be completely separate and private. We’ll have the land for the orchard and a bit more to have a decent garden. So, we could get a dog.”

Aaron glances at him. “Bit domestic, ain’t it?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” He smiles. “I like dogs.”

“I know.” 

Robert smiles and pulls him close, drawing him into a slow, sweet kiss. He can see it all in his head, the orchard, maybe a bench dedicated to his mum, somewhere that he, Vic and Andy can go, somewhere close to their childhood home that will be a sanctuary to remember her, somewhere other than her grave. Somewhere beautiful and full of life.

He can see the barn and all of its potential. One day, he _will_ be a Dingle, or Aaron will be a Sugden. This will be theirs. Their home. Their land, and, one day, their dog. Maybe even their kids, too.

Their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this sort of reads a bit like an ending, but it definitely isn't, and it absolutely is foreshadowing :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: description of scars and reference to past self-harm; Shane; derogatory language; graphic threats (including a sexual threat made towards an underage character); brief mention of drugs; kidnapping; discussion of torture (but no actual torture); blood; violence and fighting; description of injuries; mention of fires and implied mention of Sarah's death; some angst.

“No way.”

Robert looks up from the portfolio spread out on the bar, frowning. “Why not?”

“Doors without handles and pure white drawers?” Aaron says, pulling a face. “We might as well be living in _Star Trek_.”

“Oi,” he replies. “I like a bit of _Star Trek_.”

“Nerd,” Liv accuses, sharing an unimpressed look with Aaron.

The sibling resemblance when they pull that expression is uncanny and Robert shakes his head, flipping the page in the portfolio. The next design scheme is a little less modern, mixing classical farmhouse features with newer, minimalistic details. 

“Better, I suppose,” Aaron allows.

Liv’s nose wrinkles slightly. “It’s hideous.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry,” Robert tells her. “We’ve already got your bedroom sorted.”

“You have?” she asks, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. We reckon you’ll love the design. Pink walls, plenty of One Direction posters, some fluffy teddies.” 

“Don’t forget the unicorn lamp,” Aaron adds.

“Great!” Liv enthuses, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Chuck some Taylor Swift CD’s in there and I might just top myself.”

Aaron shakes his head, tugging her into a side hug, and ruffles her hair. She complains, shrugging him off with a grumpy scowl, but stays leaned into his side as she rifles through the portfolio. 

They’d told her about Robert moving into the pub, which she’d been happy about, and she’d actually been visibly delighted when they’d also told her about the barn conversion. Robert had been more than a little relieved. He knows he’ll probably never have Paddy’s blessing when it comes to a future with Aaron, but Chas and Liv’s support means a lot, to him as well as to Aaron.

“Do I really get my own room, though?” Liv asks, pulling a face at a double page spread boasting the advantages of shabby chic. “Eugh.” 

“’Course you do,” Aaron replies. “You’re not getting rid of us. You’re my sister.”

“Yeah, but -.”

“I want you around,” he cuts her off, voice firm. “I want you to have your own room, your own space, somewhere that’s just yours. Because I mean it, Liv. You can visit as much as you like, if your mum agrees. In fact, we dunno if the barn will be complete by next summer, but if it is, we were hoping you could spend your summer holiday here.” 

Robert watches the way Liv’s face lights up, mouth pulling into a smile. She’s similar to Aaron, rejection issues and fear of abandonment wrapped up in layers of grumpiness and a conviction that she doesn’t need anyone, and it’s clear that having her own room for visits means the absolute world to her. It means that Aaron genuinely loves her and wants her around, and that she will always be welcome with him. It means that, while her mum might move her around regularly, she will always have a base, a real, proper home with Aaron, whenever she wants to visit.

“Right,” she says. “In that case, I’m gonna go and look at room designs. ‘Cause if I leave my bedroom up to you two idiots, I probably _will_ end up kipping on the couch.”

Aaron laughs. “Oi,” he replies. “I’ve got good taste.”

“You’re moving in with him,” she points out, gesturing to Robert. 

“Cheers for that,” Robert remarks.

“And I’ve seen the photos of you in those chavvy trackies and hats,” she adds. 

Aaron pauses, then gives a sort of shrug-nod. “Yeah, alright, fair point.”

She grins and snags a packet of crisps before ducking through to the back room. Robert watches her go, then leans against the bar, tilting his body to face Aaron properly.

“I think I need to see these photos,” he says.

“You really don’t,” Aaron replies firmly. 

Laughing, Robert leans in, kissing him briefly. Aaron leans into it and smiles when they part. He flips the portfolio shut, though, shaking his head slightly.

“None of these,” he decides. “They’re all hideous.”

“I reckon if you had your way, we’d just bung down some straw and be done with it. Maybe get a burnt out car in there and you’ll feel right at home.” 

“Still better than living on the set of _Star Trek_,” Aaron replies without missing a beat. 

“What’s wrong with _Star Trek_?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. Unless you actually like good films.”

“What, like _Rocky_? _Jason Bourne_?” Robert drops his voice lower, mimicking Aaron as he says, “Oi, I’m Aaron Dingle. I don’t watch _Star Trek_ and I think beer is a food group.”

“Oh God, is he going on about _Star Trek_ again?”

They both turn at the sound of Chrissie’s voice. There’s no antagonism on her face, though she does look a little stressed, the corners of her mouth pinched downwards as she approaches the bar. Robert hasn’t seen her in a while and it’s clear she’s been away. She’s got a glossy tan and she’s trimmed her hair shorter, some of it pinned back to offer her neck relief from the stifling heat outside. 

Setting her handbag on the bar, she gives Aaron a small, amused smile. “Word of advice,” she says. “If he suggests a _Star Trek_ marathon, run. Just run. Those are several hours of my life I will never get back.” She pauses, then adds, “Though I suppose that could be said for most of our marriage, really.”

The words should be harsh, but there’s no bitterness in her voice, and her eyes are sparkling with humour rather than vitriol. It’s an awkward joke and probably way too soon to even try making friendly jibes about their disaster of a marriage, especially given the sordid context of the whole thing, but she’s trying, and Robert can’t help but appreciate the dark humour, a grin tugging at his own mouth.

Aaron shakes his head slightly. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he says, smiling slightly.

Charity approaches them, looking Chrissie up and down before she asks, “What can I get ya?”

“Mm,” Chrissie considers. “A time machine? A family that isn’t messed up? A son who doesn’t hate me?”

“Sorry,” Charity says. “But I can do you a glass of wine on the house.”

She tilts her head slightly, nodding. “That’ll do.”

Charity steps away to grab a glass and moves to the fridge. Chrissie sighs, fringe ruffling from the sharp exhale, and fiddles with the bracelet on her thin wrist. She glances over at Robert and Aaron.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Lachlan?” she asks.

Robert shakes his head. “Thankfully, no,” he replies dryly, pulling a face when Aaron kicks him gently in the ankle. “Why? Has something happened?”

“We got back from Dubai yesterday. I thought things were alright. He was actually talking to me again, which was a start, since he’s been ignoring me for weeks.” She sighs. “So I thought it would be an ideal time to tell him about the move.”

“You’re moving?” Robert asks, a little surprised.

She smiles slightly, a touch of sadness to it. “I think it’s time we moved on,” she says quietly. “Start a new life elsewhere. There’s too much here dragging us down. So we’re going to move. We’ve seen a place in Australia, actually.”

“Australia,” Aaron repeats. “That’s…a big move.”

“Yes, well, like I said. A new life. A fresh start. The business is expanding even more, so dad is looking to move his base of operations abroad in the hopes of taking it global.” 

“But Lachlan didn’t take the news well?” Robert guesses.

“That’s a bit of an understatement. I haven’t see him since he trashed the kitchen and stormed out.” She sighs, looking over as Charity sets her glass of white wine down. “Thanks.” She takes a sip. “I suppose I should have expected a fallout. I’m turning his world upside down all over again. I can’t do anything right with him.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Take it from someone who used to be a complete gobshite,” he offers. “It ain’t you that’s the problem.”

“If we see him,” Robert adds. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

She nods. “Thank you.”

Picking up her glass, she gives Charity a brief nod before she walks away to take a seat at one of the tables. Aaron leans his arms on the bar. He’s having to wear a short sleeved shirt due to the heat, something he doesn’t often do in public. He’s not ashamed of his scars, exactly, but they garner attention he doesn’t need, stolen glances and curious stares that he doesn’t want or appreciate. 

Robert looks at the scars marking his arm. Some of them are old, faded, gleaming silver or pale pink in the sunlight pouring through the pub windows, the fragile skin of his wrist puckered slightly. The newer ones are more visible, red and raw still. The biggest is the one that still breaks Robert’s heart, reminding him of the day he nearly lost Aaron, the day he learned why Aaron was so haunted and scared. 

Reaching out, he gently ghosts a fingertip along the scar. Aaron looks at him, but his gaze is soft and he doesn’t pull away. Robert traces the scar again, then drags his hand down until their palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining. They keep their clasped hands on the bar as they drain the rest of their drinks.

“Let’s get out of here,” Robert suggests.

One corner of Aaron’s mouth pulls up. “Where to?”

Leaning in closer, Robert murmurs in his ear, “Our barn.”

He feels rather than sees Aaron’s smile widen and he presses his own against the sensitive flesh of Aaron’s neck, tracing the sharp line of his stubble with his lips before he pulls back. Collecting the portfolio, Robert tucks it under his arm as they quietly leave the pub, ignoring Charity’s knowing look. 

Outside, the sun beats down, making Robert feel crushed, suffocated, between the scorched ground and unblemished, glassy sky. The heat is thick and heavy in the air, dry and uncomfortable, and there’s no breeze. The sun has melted the tar on the road slightly, casts the horizon into a hazy blur, and Robert feels the sticky ground suck at the soles of his shoes as they walk. Glancing over at Aaron, he sees sweat already pooling in the hollow of his throat, his hair curling slightly from the salty damp on his skin, and he wants to lean in, wants to kiss and lick, but he has to make do with resting a hand on Aaron’s back, feeling the tease of his hot skin against his palm through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

“Oi,” someone calls. “Aaron!”

They both stop short, turning to look. Angered dismay slinks into Robert’s gut, unease snapping down his spine. They haven’t seen Shane since he’d rocked up at the pub the day of Aaron’s release from prison and he’d hoped, probably somewhat naively, that he’d given up, that he’d lost interest and would leave them be.

He slides his hand from Aaron’s back to his wrist, giving a quick, gentle squeeze. “Don’t lose it,” he murmurs in his ear.

Aaron’s posture doesn’t change. He stays loose and relaxed, but his gaze is wary as he watches Shane approach.

"I won’t,” he promises quietly. 

Shane reaches them. He’s wearing a hat, obnoxiously perched backwards on his head, and there’s a hideous, cheap silver chain hanging around his neck. He grins slightly, showing straight white teeth, as he glances between them.

“Alright?” 

“What are you doing here?” Aaron asks calmly.

“I reckoned you’d had enough time to cool off,” Shane replies. “You got a bit narky last time I saw ya. But it’s fine. Time of the month and all that, hormones, I get it. I won’t hold it against ya.”

Aaron huffs a laugh. There’s not a trace of humour in it. “Cool off?” he repeats. “You set me up, you weasel. I got banged up ‘cause of you.”

“You were getting on my nerves. I had to show ya what happens when you get in my face.” Shane shrugs slightly, adds, casually, “Next time, you won’t be so lucky, mate. Prison time was nice compared to what I could do to you. Or to your boyfriend. Or how about that little sister of yours? She’s around today. I saw her. Cute lass, ain’t she? Bit stroppy, but I reckon I could put a smile on her face.”

Aaron snaps forward and Robert barely grabs him in time, holding him back. He’s not weak by any means, but Aaron’s always been strong, and he’s got fury on his side, the fire and violence and ruin that’s normally tightly leashed inside of him unspooling, crackling around him as he surges towards Shane. Shane just gives a self-satisfied smirk and Robert’s own anger is searing. The thought of Shane being anywhere close to Liv makes Robert feel sick and his threat makes him want to beat the smile off his face himself, but they have to be smart, as hard as it is.

“You lay a finger on her,” Aaron warns and his voice is alarmingly low and even. “And I’ll kill ya. You got that?”

Shane steps closer. “I ain’t scared of ya, mate,” he replies softly. “I ain’t scared of your pussy uncle, or any of that inbred family of yours. So if I were you, I’d stop mouthing off and remember that I own you now. And I need another favour.”

Aaron’s lip curls. “You can shove it up your -.”

“Aaron,” Robert warns, pushing him back slightly, planting his feet. “Come on. Leave it.”

“Tonight,” Shane says coolly. “The bridge. Meet me at eleven. Bring the spice.”

“The spice?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “I don’t have it anymore, you fuckin’ idiot. I got rid of it.”

The smile on Shane’s face drops. Brutal anger slashes, dark and ugly, across his expression. 

“You’d better be lying, mate,” he warns. “’Cause otherwise, you’ll be paying with your kneecaps. Ya get me?”

Aaron’s jaw goes tight. “Fine,” he grits out. “The bridge at eleven.”

Shane reaches out, giving Aaron’s cheek a sharp, condescending pat, and Robert shifts, fighting back the urge to punch him. He keeps hold of Aaron as Shane saunters away. Only when he’s out of view does Robert slowly, cautiously let go of him.

“You did get rid of the spice,” he says quietly. “I watched you.”

Aaron shrugs. “I know.”

Robert frowns. “So what are you gonna do when you meet him tonight?”

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Aaron takes a step back. “I need to go see Cain. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“I’ll come with ya.”

Aaron shakes his head. “No. I need you to go back to the pub. Keep an eye on me mum and Liv, yeah? I need to know they’re safe.”

A huge part of Robert doesn’t want to. Unease gnaws at his gut. He knows Cain is a force to be reckoned with, and so is Aaron; together, they’re dangerous and unpredictable, but brutally efficient. But he still wants to go with Aaron; he wants to help, wants to make sure that, whatever happens, Aaron is safe.

But Aaron is right. Robert can’t leave Liv on her own. The thought of something happening to her while they’re talking to Cain makes him feel sick. So he nods and steps forward, tugging Aaron into a brief, firm kiss.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” he says, tone brooking no arguments.

Aaron nods. “Later.”

***

“Okay,” Liv says. “What’s going on?”

Robert blinks, dragging his gaze away from his phone. “What?”

She raises her eyebrows and twists on the couch to look at him. “You brought me chips, you’re watching telly with me even though you hate this programme, and you keep looking at your phone. Aaron hasn’t come home yet, so I reckon it’s something to do with him. So, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

For a moment, she just looks at him. The look on her face is eerily similar to both Aaron and Chas, their patented ‘are you really trying to bullshit me right now’ expression, and it’s annoyingly effective even from Liv.

“You know, when I first hung out round here, I heard plenty of things about you,” she says. “Not all of them good. Well, none of them good, actually. Everyone said you’re a good liar.”

Robert frowns. “Everyone who?”

“They were wrong,” she adds. “You’re a shit liar, mate.” 

“Nice. Cheers, I suppose.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” she demands. “Is Aaron in trouble?”

“No,” he says. “He’s just with Cain.”

“I don’t think not being in trouble and Cain Dingle are two things that go hand in hand,” she points out. 

He shrugs slightly. She has a point, after all. “He’s just helping Cain out at the garage. But I had an evening planned with him. Chips and some films. A night in, the three of us, but he had to cancel. I’m waiting on him to come home, that’s all.”

Her eyes narrow as she searches his face, but he keeps his expression nonchalant and unconcerned. Maybe he isn’t as good of a liar these days, especially when it comes to her and Aaron; it’s hard to lie to them, not just because they’re so good at calling him out on it, but because he actually _feels_ it when he lies, and he hates not being honest with them. But he hasn’t lost his touch completely and after a moment, she nods slightly.

“Right,” she says. “He’s a bit of a prat like that.”

“Well, it’s family,” Robert replies. “’Course he’s going to help.”

“Yeah, but you’re his family and all,” she points out, then shrugs. “Just let me know when he’s on his way home, alright? So I can go and hide in my room and avoid you two making up. All that canoodling on the couch and kissing. Eugh.”

He can’t help but laugh slightly. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Alright.”

Apparently mollified, she flops back again and picks up the bowl of popcorn from between them, curling arm around it as she stuffs a handful into her mouth. Crunching away, she pays him no more attention, instead focused on the telly. 

Robert tries to check his phone a little less, not wanting to make her suspicion again. It’s silence is unnerving, though. No calls, no texts, nothing. He’d expected something once Aaron had sorted out the plan with Cain, but the longer it goes with no word from Aaron, the more concerned Robert gets. 

Shortly after the clock strikes ten, Liv falls asleep, curled up and tucked into the corner of the couch, face squished against one of the cushions. Robert turns off the TV and sets the empty bowl on the coffee table before gently waking her. She manages a squint in his direction and a garbled ‘night’ before she shuffles up the stairs like a zombie.

Once the door to the spare room closes behind her, Robert gets to his feet. He clears up, scrubbing popcorn dust and unpopped kernels out of the bowl and tossing empty Coke cans into the bin, but when there’s nothing left to distract himself with, he starts to pace, unease yawning in his gut.

At ten to eleven, he can’t just stay in the pub anymore. He grabs his keys and heads through to the bar. It’s busy and either Chas or Charity have installed a couple of plug in fans to try and tackle the stifling heat from so many bodies packed into an already hot building, but the warm, stale air they spew out does little to cool the place down. The uncomfortable temperature has made them both a little grumpy as they try to keep up with the rush of patrons demanding cold drinks with plenty of ice.

While Chas is busy trying to stay patient as Finn deliberates over what he wants to order, oblivious to the tight smile on her face that promises a throttling if he doesn’t hurry up, Robert catches Charity by the other side of the bar.

“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Don’t go anywhere, alright?”

She gives him an incredulous look and gestures at the crowd of people in the pub. “I can’t exactly go anywhere, can I? It’s not exactly dead in here, in case you didn’t notice. A hand would be nice.” 

“I can’t. I’ve got to go out. Just don’t leave Liv or Noah alone.”

“When do I ever?” she replies, outrage cooling her tone now. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

“I mean it,” he insists. “Be careful.”

She pauses, eyes narrowing. “Oh no. What’s going on now?”

He sighs, impatient. “Shane McCormac.”

“That scrote has turned up again?” she demands. “The little shit. I’ll do him in, I swear.”

“Cain’s sorting it.”

“Cain?” she repeats, rolling her eyes, disbelief stark on her face. “Yeah, the last time Cain ‘sorted’ something, I ended up having to play real life _Need for Speed_ with the sourfaced cow who wouldn’t leave Moira alone. Hold on, let me grab my keys.”

“No,” he says quickly. “Look, I need you to stay here, alright? Keep an eye on Chas, Liv and Noah.” 

She hesitates, clearly not happy about it, but she knows he’s right. Scowling, she points a finger at him, warning clear on her face.

“Fine,” she agrees. “But if anything happens, you call me, yeah?”

He nods and ducks out from behind the bar, squeezing his way through the tight cluster of customers until he can reach the doors. Outside, it’s marginally cooler, the night bringing a couple of degrees of relief to the sun-scorched village. There’s a slight, refreshing breeze in the air that feels a little unpleasant where his shirt is stuck to his sweat-damp skin.

He checks his phone once more, but there are no new notifications. Shoving it into his pocket, he starts to jog down the sloping road, out of the village towards the bridge. It’s not too far to sprint, but the warmth makes him feel sweaty and disgusting, and he slows as he reaches the bridge, a little breathless.

He sees Aaron first, back turned to him. Cain’s on the other side of the bridge, stood next to his car, and when he spots Robert approaching, he nods slightly in his direction to alert Aaron.

Aaron turns and frowns. “Oi, you’re supposed to be looking after Liv.”

“I told Charity. She’s keeping an eye on them.”

Cain tips his head back in exasperation. “Great. Charity knows. That won’t bugger anything up, I’m sure.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron says firmly. “It’s not like Shane can go after them now, is it? They’re fine.”

“Yeah, and we’ll get Charity coming down here sticking her nose in,” Cain points out.

“She helped us last time.” 

“Hang on,” Robert interrupts. “What do you mean he can’t go after them? You’ve already met with him?”

“We’ve sorted it,” Cain says shortly. “Go home, Sugden.”

“Sorted it how?” he asks.

“Just…sorted it,” Aaron replies carefully. “Don’t worry, yeah?”

There’s a muffled thud from the boot of Cain’s car. Robert looks over at it, watching as Cain gives a quick kick to the tyre, smiling coolly at Robert.

“It’s an old car,” he offers casually. “Makes all sorts of noises these days.”

“Aaron,” Robert says calmly. “Shane’s in the boot of Cain’s car, isn’t he?”

Aaron scratches slightly at his eyebrow, expression sheepish. “He might be, yeah.”

“By might be, you mean…?”

“He’s sort of tied up in there,” Aaron says. “But he can breathe. Don’t worry, we checked.”

“This is your plan?” Robert demands. “Kidnap the bastard? Yeah, I’m sure that won’t have any negative repercussions.”

“It won’t,” Cain grits out.

“Trust us,” Aaron adds, then considers before he amends, “Yeah, okay, but trust _me_. We’ve got it sorted.”

Robert stares at him. There’s another thud from the boot, followed by the muffled sound of shouting and cursing. Cain rubs at the back of his neck, shooting an annoyed, impatient glance around. There’s no one about at this time of the night, but the longer they stick around, the more they risk getting caught.

Aaron’s trainer scuffs against the ground. “What are you thinking?”

Exhaling slowly, Robert replies, “I’m thinking I must be pretty messed up, ‘cause you kidnapping some bloke and putting him in the boot of a car shouldn’t be attractive to me as it is.”

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Apparently, I’d take a forever of messed up with you over anything else.”

Aaron smiles, pleased, gaze soft as he stares at Robert. Behind him, Cain gives a sharp whistle, rapping his knuckles on the roof of the car.

“Oi, lovebirds,” he says sharply. “Quit gazing into each other’s eyes. Aaron, we’ve got work to do.”

Robert nods. “What do we do with him now?” He gestures towards the boot.

“’We’?” Cain repeats. “No, no, there’s no ‘we’ here, sunshine. Get lost.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he argues. “I’m part of this. Let me help.”

Cain shakes his head. Another clunk rings out from the boot and he slams a palm down on the hood in warning. 

“Look,” he says, low and harsh. “I know you’ve got yourself a reputation round here, but this is way out of your league, mate. I mean, look at ya. You look a few years out of some toff private school.”

“You are kind of rocking the country squire look,” Aaron agrees, giving an apologetic wince.

“You think you’re hard, but I know you’re not. It weren’t that long ago that I had _you_ tied up in the boot of my car, remember? This is beyond you. You don’t even look the part.”

Robert tries not to take offence. He supposes they have a point. Despite the heat, Cain’s wearing his leather jacket, and Aaron is similarly dressed in dark colours. Even without their surname, it’s easy to tell from looking at them that they’re not new to this kind of thing, that they can handle it. Robert’s pale blue shirt and jeans probably don’t have the same effect. 

Still, he shakes his head. “I don’t have to look the part. I just have to play it. And I will. That little prick put Aaron through hell. I’m in this, whether you like it or not.”

“Cain, we don’t have time to argue,” Aaron says. 

“Fine,” he bites out. “Right, then, Thelma and Louise. Get your arses in the car before we get caught.”

Cain climbs behind the wheel and Aaron folds into the passenger seat, leaving Robert to clamber into the back. He can feel the vibration of Shane struggling, thuds against the back of the seat as he kicks, and it’s not exactly comfortable but he keeps his mouth shut. Cain looks pissed off enough as it is, but once they’re on the road, Aaron twists slightly, catching Robert’s gaze. His expression is grateful and it eases the knot of anxiety in Robert’s chest.

Surprisingly, Cain drives up to Butlers. He takes the track past the fields, right up to the shed at the top of the property, a good couple of miles out from the farmhouse. It’s the one they use for storage and repairs; it’s run down, wood rotted from damp, and pretty isolated, which is ideal.

Robert climbs out, looking out over the land. The sky is an inky blue, not quite completely dark now it’s the height of summer. In the distance, he can see yellow dots, the various lights on in the village.

“Does Moira know about this?” he asks.

“Oi,” Cain hisses. “Keep your voice down.” 

He gestures sharply towards the boot and Robert gets it. Cain doesn’t want Shane to know where they are. 

“Of course she does,” he adds, voice pitched low.

Robert frowns, dubious. “And she was alright with it?”

“Well, not at first, obviously. But given everything her Adam has been through with Aaron, she sees him as family, loves him like one of her own. If it gets Shane off Aaron’s back, she’s willing to accept it. Her only rule is that we don’t leave any bloodstains in the shed.”

“Bloody hell,” Robert mutters.

“What?” Cain demands. “Too much for you, sunshine? Feel free to back out any time. We don’t need your delicate sensibilities cocking this up.”

He narrows his eyes. “You really have no idea what I’m capable of, do you? Trust me. I’m willing to go as far as needed. I’ve done plenty of things in the past, you know.”

“Is that right?”

“Oi,” Aaron snaps. “Save the aggression for Shane, yeah? We’re supposed to be laying into him, not each other.”

Cain slants one last, cool look Robert’s way before he steps back. Popping the boot open, he and Aaron move in synchronisation, leaning their hands on the propped open boot door as they look in at Shane. 

Both his wrists and ankles are tied up securely and there’s tape over his mouth. The knots are expertly done and surprisingly tidy, but Robert supposes Cain does have plenty of experience in this department; he himself has been on the receiving end of Cain’s Boot Special, after all. Blood trickles down one side of Shane’s face and he’s furious, shouting behind the tape as he struggles.

Aaron and Cain share a look, and they both smile. It isn’t a nice smile.

“Oh, mate,” Aaron says casually. “I really wouldn’t want to be you right now. ‘Cause things are only gonna get worse from here.”

“A lot worse,” Cain agrees in the same flippant tone. “I gotta say, I’m looking forward to it.”

Aaron grins and gives the edge of the boot a friendly tap as he pushes away. Cain follows, glancing at Robert.

“Get him inside.”

Robert’s tempted to make a snide remark about Cain ordering him to do the heavy lifting after not wanting him to have anything to do with this in the first place, but he has a role to play, so he bites the comment back. 

Shane struggles as Robert hauls him out of the car, but with his ankles tied together and his wrists bound behind his back, there’s not much he can do. Aaron goes ahead to unlock and open the door to the shed and Cain helps Robert drag Shane inside. 

It stinks, absolutely reeking of old, musty hay, dirt, and damp wood. It’s stuffy, too, still hot after being under the burning sun all day. Cain has obviously been up here earlier to set up, because it’s well lit with strategically placed lamps, filling the large shed with a spill of bright, artificial light. Robert’s relieved to see that they’re battery powered, rather than paraffin. There’s a chair in the middle of the room and, as Aaron shuts and locks the door again behind them, Robert and Cain heave Shane over to it.

Cain takes over, quickly and efficiently getting Shane situated in the chair, wrists once again bound behind him around the back of the seat and ankles tied to the rusted legs. He struggles, but Cain’s no amateur, and he’s clearly not going anywhere. Cain isn’t gentle as he rips the tape off his mouth, ignoring Shane’s swearing, and balls it up before flicking it so it bounces off Shane’s forehead. With a self-satisfied smirk, he backs off, folding his arms over his chest.

Robert moves aside, too, glancing over at Aaron. With Shane’s back to him, Aaron throws Robert a cheeky wink, and it’s probably inappropriate to feel a rush of fondness while intimidating a bound and furious man in an isolated shed in the middle of the night, but Robert can’t help it. 

Schooling his expression again, Aaron moves to stand in front of Shane. When he starts shouting, Aaron rolls his eyes, and Cain makes an exaggerated show of wriggling a finger in his ear, pulling a face.

“You know in the films,” Aaron says casually. “When the bad guy always says something like ‘scream all you like, no one can hear ya’?”

“Yeah,” Cain answers. “Bit of a cliché, that, innit?”

“A bit, yeah,” Aaron agrees, then leans forward slightly, meeting Shane’s gaze with a smile. “But, really. Scream all ya like, mate. No one’s around for miles. No one will hear ya.”

Shane bares his teeth. “I swear to god -.”

“Blah blah, boring threats, blah,” Aaron cuts him off. “Save it, yeah?” 

Cain steps closer to Shane, right into the brightest circle of light. His expression is calm as he casually rolls up his sleeves, buttoning them up at his elbows. 

“It were a good shout, this place,” he remarks. “’Cause I reckon he’s a screamer, you know.”

Robert throws him a look of disbelief, incredulous that Cain ‘hard man’ Dingle is recycling the same sort of lines that he used on him. It’s almost funny, actually.

“You think?” Aaron replies, then shrugs with his mouth. “Nah. I reckon he’s a crier.”

“Oh yeah? Think he’ll beg?”

Aaron nods. “Probably. He’ll try, anyway, but you need your teeth to beg, don’t you?”

“Most of ‘em, anyway,” Cain agrees. “Gives us some scope, then.”

Shane looks between them, a furious sneer on his face. “I ain’t scared of ya, you know. Any of ya.”

“Not yet, no,” Cain agrees.

“But that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?” Aaron adds. 

“Making you scared of us,” Robert joins in, catching onto the routine Cain and Aaron have got going. “That’s the best part, I reckon. Even if it takes a while.”

“ if it takes a while.” Cain pulls on a pair of leather gloves. “And we’ve got all night, mate.”

“Do you know what my family will do to you?” Shane spits. “To your family? We’ll fucking do ya, I swear. You’re dead. All of ya. Fucking _dead_.”

Aaron and Cain share a glance. Aaron smiles, rolling his own sleeves up as Cain steps even closer.

“Nah, I don’t think so, mate,” he says. “’Cause I’ve had a nice little chat with your dad.”

The anger freezes on Shane’s expression, doubt and the first trickle of unease flashing across his face before his jaw goes tight and he glares furiously at Cain. 

“Yeah, you didn’t know that me and him go way back, did ya?” Cain continues. “Used to be mates. Sort of. Back in the day, anyway. And you? You’re the black sheep of the family these days, aren’t ya? None of them will lift a finger to help ya or get revenge or whatever it is you reckon you can threaten us with. You’re on your own, lad. And your dad? He doesn’t care what we do to ya. None of your family do.”

“You’re lying,” Shane grits out. “Blood is blood.”

“Yeah, it is,” Cain agrees. “And you threatened my blood. You really shouldn’t have done that, you know.”

“Do ya worst,” Shane challenges. “I ain’t scared.”

“Maybe not,” Aaron says. “’Cause you’re thick. But you will be.” 

He moves to lean casually back against the wall opposite Shane, one ankle crossed behind the other, arms folded over his chest. The shadow creeps over him, dips some of his face into darkness, but the cool light in his eyes gleams in the spill from the lamps as he keeps his gaze fixed on Shane. His mouth curls into a smile.

“Now, you see, Cain? Yeah, when it comes to stuff like this, Cain likes to do it the traditional way. Start small, ya know? Rough you up a bit, maybe knock ya around some. Then if you’re still being a prat, he might break a finger or two, then a rib. That sort of thing.” 

“But me?” He continues. “Nah. I like to do it _my_ way. I start with the kneecaps. A solid swing with a crowbar and that’s them done, mate. ‘Cause the person I’m knocking about, they know than that I mean it, that I ain’t messing around. I want to fuck them up and I’m going to. The only question is, just how _badly_ am I gonna batter them? And that comes down to their willingness to do what I want. See, when you start with the kneecaps, when getting away with shattered knees is considered _lucky_, then what does that say about me and what I’m willing to do to ya? So we flipped a coin. Heads, his way, tails, mine. Turns out it’s my lucky day.”

Robert stares at him. He knows it’s all bullshit. Probably not the stuff about Cain, but he knows that Aaron, for all that he’s lashed out in the past and hero-worshipped his uncle, isn’t the type of bloke he’s making out to be now. He hasn’t tortured anyone, hasn’t smashed any kneecaps. He’s playing a role, lying through his teeth, but he’s bloody good at it. He knows Aaron, but he still feels a chill down his spine, because Aaron might not be dangerous in the way he’s pretending to be right now, but he _is_ dangerous in his own way. 

The wound at Shane’s hairline has stopped bleeding, but the rivulets trickling down his face have dribbled into his mouth. He spits some blood out and Cain watches as it lands harmlessly on Shane’s own jeans.

“I don’t buy it,” Shane sneers. “’Him?” He nods at Cain. “He’s just an old has been. And you? You’re soft. You always have been.”

Aaron glances at Cain, who just looks amused at the insult. 

“Is that what you think?” Aaron pushes away from the wall and bends until his face is inches away from Shane’s. “Cain could do you in with one arm tied behind his back, mate. And me? Yeah, maybe you think I’m soft. But you don’t know anything. Not really.”

“’Cause, me?” His voice dips low, almost soft. “I’m a bit of a loose cannon. Got a history of it, actually, of going off on one. I play by my own rules. And here’s the thing. You’re threatening the people I care about. So I’ve got no option, have I? I do what you say for the rest of my life, or you go after my family. So now I have nowt to loose, which was really, _really_ stupid on your part, mate.”

He leans closer, almost murmuring in Shane’s ear, quiet and dangerous, “’Cause if I’m gonna pay for it, I might as well do as much damage as I can to ya. Even if I go to prison, it’ll be worth it. You get me?”

Robert can see it coming, spots the way Shane’s neck tenses, and he opens his mouth to warn Aaron about being too close, but Aaron isn’t an idiot. He ducks back easily when Shane snaps his head forward, trying to headbutt him, dodging the blow with a quick grin on his face.

“Now, him?” Aaron adds, jerking his chin in Robert’s direction. “You’d be surprised what he’s capable of and all.”

Shane huffs a nasty laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard the rumours. I ain’t scared of him.”

“You should be,” Aaron says. “’Cause I know exactly what he can do. I’ve seen it first hand, actually. Yeah, he bottled me, then tied me to a radiator and left me bleeding for hours. And then he held a gun to my head. I reckon he would have done it, too, if he weren’t interrupted.”

Robert swallows. He knows Aaron’s just saying it for affect, trying to get to Shane, but hearing him talk about it like this, it has his stomach churning and ash searing the back of his throat. They’ve talked it through, moved on and forgiven even if they haven’t forgotten, but regret is still a raw bruise in his chest whenever he thinks about what he did that day. What he’d _almost_ done. 

Aaron laughs wildly. “And he loves me!” He continues. “So imagine just what he’d do to someone he _doesn’t_ like. If he feels like getting his hands dirty, that is. He might just decide to call one of his contacts and be done with it. It wouldn’t be the first time. He could probably have that house of yours burned down by teatime, mate. With ya family still inside it.”

Robert carefully keeps his expression neutral, gaze on Shane. Aaron’s words seem to be hitting home. He shifts slightly, looking between the three of them, and he’s seething with rage but it doesn’t quite hide his fear. Cain sees it, too, and he smirks, winking when Shane meets his gaze.

“You said you’d do me in if I said no,” Aaron reminds him.

And then suddenly he’s moving, circling behind Shane, and Robert watches in surprised disbelief as he makes quick work of untying his ankles and wrists.

“Aaron -,” he protests.

Cain elbows him sharply in the ribs, silencing him. Robert throws him a furious look, hand going to his side, but doesn’t speak up again.

Aaron moves back round to face Shane and smiles, shark-like. “Well, mate,” he says, spreading his arms casually. “This is me, saying no. So come on then. Let’s do this.”

Shane lunges forward, catching Aaron by the waist, and his fists start flying as they tumble to the dirty floor. The brutal sound of a bare fist hitting flesh echoes in the shed and Robert winces.

He starts forward, but Cain grabs him by the shoulders, shoving him back again ruthlessly.

“Don’t,” he warns. “We’ve got to leave them to it.”

“He’s gonna kick Aaron’s head in!” Robert snaps.

He frowns. “Have some faith in him, blimey. Aaron’s a tough lad. He knows what he’s doing.”

“You’re his _uncle_ -.”

“And this is the only way,” Cain cuts him off, tone cold and dangerous. “Don’t make me knock you out and all. Stay back. I mean it.”

Robert clenches his jaw, but he knows Cain isn’t bluffing. He curls his hands into fists and fights to stay put, despite every instinct he has trying to push him into the fray to defend the man he loves.

Aaron is holding his own, though. He dodges a punch and drives one of his own into Shane’s ribs, then flips them, getting Shane underneath him before snapping another punch to his jaw. It’s clear his past boxing training with Zak is serving him well; he’s chaotic and wild, fighting like all of that anger, all of that fire and ruin inside of him has been given an outlet for destruction, but he’s sharp and he’s quick, his blows solid. 

It’s obvious that Shane isn’t a stranger to a scrap, either, and he’s just as angry as Aaron, has just as much to lose. He’s like an animal, vicious and out to do some serious damage. Each thump of his fist against Aaron’s flesh has bile burning in Robert’s throat. Each grunt of pain from Aaron makes his chest squeeze, heart thundering in his ribcage.   
Finally, though, Aaron’s got Shane properly pinned. A brutal hit and Shane’s head snaps to the side, blood spitting across the floor. 

“Please,” he coughs. 

Aaron leans back, breathless, bruised, and bloody. He pushes up to his feet, swaying slightly, and Cain catches him by the shoulders, holding him up when he staggers. Aaron wipes a hand across his face, smearing blood across his cheek.

“I didn’t wanna fight ya, mate,” he pants. “That ain’t who I am anymore. It ain’t who I _want_ to be. But you gave me no choice.”

“You fought it out,” Cain says. “You got battered, pal. It’s done.”

“My dad -,” Shane rasps.

“Won’t do a thing,” Cain cuts him off. “I told ya, I had a chat with him earlier. He said fair is fair. This is it. Quits. You leave us well alone, and we’ll leave you alone. Got it?”

Shane sits up, one hand going to his ribs. He spits blood out onto the floor, glaring balefully, but he knows he’s beat. If his family have agreed to leave them be, then any action he takes now will be entirely on his own, and he’s too much of a coward to take on Aaron and his family without backup. 

It’s over. Robert’s hesitant to believe it, but it’s clear Shane doesn’t want more trouble, not after having the shit beaten out of him. Not when his family will likely batter him and all if he goes against his dad’s agreement with Cain. 

Slowly, Shane pushes up to his feet. His eye is already swelling and blood dribbles from a split lip. He’s clearly sore, but when he walks, his posture and gait are fine. He’s not badly hurt, not really. Aaron could have done a lot worse, but it’s clear he didn’t want to. He’d done what he’d needed to in order to get Shane to back down, but nothing more. Some bruises and a bust lip, but Shane will be fine.

Aaron, despite coming out on top, is more of a mess than Shane is. He’s clutching at his ribs, trying his best not to let the pain show on his face, but it’s obvious Shane got a good couple of hits in there, right on the spot that’s already weak, only just healed from being cracked in prison. His lip is split, blood spills from his nose, and bruising is already starting to show up on his jaw. 

“Come on, lad,” Cain says, patting Aaron’s shoulder. “Let’s get ya home.”

“Or to a hospital,” Robert mutters. “He’s a wreck.”

“I’m fine,” Aaron insists. His breathing is clear and his eyes are sharp and coherent, which eases Robert’s concern a little.

Shaking his head, he moves to support Aaron’s other side as they leave the shed, making their way to Cain’s car. Shane follows, a scowl on his face, clearly nursing a wounded ego. When he stops, Cain glances his way, then points.

“That way,” he says. “Keep walking, mate. I suggest you don’t stop, either. Not until you’re out of Emmerdale for good. Got it?”

Shane doesn’t answer, just takes the chance he’s been given, which shows he does have at least one braincell knocking around in his thick skull. He starts walking, speeding up a little when Cain gives a sharp whistle, and Aaron smirks as he slumps into the back of the car. Robert joins him.

“Do you reckon it’s really over?” Robert asks, once they’re on the road.

Aaron nods. “Yeah. I know how they work, trust me. They’ll leave us alone. It ain’t worth the hassle.”

“I’ll ring Grant in the morning,” Cain adds from the front.

Robert carefully lifts Aaron’s shirt. There’s no new bruising and when he probes carefully at his side, Aaron doesn’t flinch away.

“You sure they’re not broken again?” he asks.

“Nah,” he says. “A little sore from the punch, but not damaged. I’m fine, Robert. Really.”

“You can’t let Liv see you like this.”

He nods. “I know. I’ll get cleaned up when we’re back.”

“You should’ve told me what you were planning,” Robert says quietly. “I just about had a heart attack when you untied him.”

Aaron shrugs slightly. “Didn’t have a chance to.”

“What if you hadn’t have won?”

“I knew I would.”

“But what if you _hadn’t_?” he insists.

He sighs. “Robert, I knew I would. Shane’s a thug, yeah, but he isn’t used to fighting his own battles, not really. And I actually had something to fight for. My family. So I knew I’d win. I _had_ to win. It was worth the risk, alright?”

Robert looks at him, eyeing the blood on his face. “To you, maybe.”

“I’m fine,” Aaron promises, taking his hand. “It’s over, yeah?”

When they get back to the pub, Cain parks and climbs out. Aaron gets out without any difficulty and starts towards the back door. When Robert starts to follow, however, Cain stops him with one hand on his chest. There’s a dark frown on his face.

“Oi,” he says lowly. “What was that about you holding a gun to our Aaron’s head?”

Robert sighs. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Yeah, we do. ‘Cause that lad, he’s more than just my nephew, alright? He might as well be my own. And I will do anything to keep him safe.” Cain’s jaw tightens slightly as he adds, “I’ve failed plenty of times in the past to protect him, but not anymore. Never again. So you hurt him, and I’ll put you in the crusher. You got it?”

“I’ve got it,” he says tightly. “It was a mistake, okay? Aaron forgave me. We’ve moved on. I love him.”

“Then I reckon I need to give you the shovel talk, don’t I?” Cain says. “Except in my case, there’s actually a shovel involved.”

Robert just shrugs. “I’m not scared of ya, Cain.”

“Yeah?” His gaze sharpens. “You should be, mate.”

“You want to beat me up? Batter me?” Robert spreads his hands slightly, impatience hardening his tone. “Go ahead. I don’t care. It won’t stop me going near Aaron. Nothing will.”

“Is that right? ‘Cause I reckon being buried six feet under might do the trick.”

“Go ahead,” Robert repeats. “’Cause that’s what it’ll take. I mean it. I love him. He wants me around and I want to be around him. I’m not gonna let anything get in my way anymore. Not myself, not anybody else, and definitely not you. So deal with it.”

For a long moment, Cain just looks at him, expression cold. Then, finally, he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “But if you hurt him -.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Robert interrupts. “Are we done here? ‘Cause I have a boyfriend in there who’s bruised six ways to Sunday and I’d like to go and take care of him, if that’s alright with you.”

Cain shrugs and steps back. As Robert walks past him, though, he says his name, making Robert pause.

“You did good tonight,” he acknowledges. “I’m glad you were there. I reckon Aaron needed you there.”

“Yeah, well. I told ya. I’m willing to do more than you think I am.”

Cain nods slightly, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a slight smirk. “You might just make it as a Dingle, then.”

With that, he climbs back into his car. Robert watches him drive away, back to Butlers to clear up in the shed. Shaking his head slightly, he heads into the pub, keeping quiet as he walks into the main room. 

Aaron’s in the kitchen, scrubbing his hands clean. His knuckles are raw, bruised and swollen, and Robert grabs a bag of peas from the freezer, bundling it up in a teatowel. Aaron winces when he presses the makeshift ice pack against his knuckles, but stays still, knowing it will help with the swelling.

“This is your chance, ya know,” he says quietly.

Robert looks at him. “For what?”

“To run a mile.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Stop trying to get rid of me, you prat.”

“I didn’t scare you off tonight, then?” Aaron asks, a vulnerable note threading through his voice.

“No,” Robert replies. “Nothing you could do could ever scare me off, Aaron. I’m in this. I want you. I want _only_ you. I’m not running away, alright?”

Aaron looks at him, searching his expression. The tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly and he nods. When Robert guides him over to the table, he sits down, and tips his head back to let Robert carefully clean up his face.

“I don’t want you fighting,” Robert says softly. “I want you safe. I don’t want you in prison again. I don’t want you turning into someone you’re not. But what you did tonight…it was necessary. It was the only way. You didn’t want to do it, but you had to. I get it. And I’m glad I was there, alright?”

“Me too,” Aaron murmurs. He swallows, then adds, “Rob…what I said, about you calling someone and getting them to burn down Shane’s house. I’m sorry. I said it ‘cause I knew it would work on him. But it was shitty for you, considering…you know. I’m sorry.”

Robert blinks slightly, then feels warmth unfurl in his chest, fondness and appreciation blossoming inside his ribcage.

“It didn’t bother me,” he admits. “I mean, maybe don’t…say things like that again, ‘cause it does get to me. Fire, I mean. Burning buildings. I have nightmares about them sometimes. But I know everything you said wasn’t real. You were playing the part. So it didn’t bother me. But thanks.”

Aaron reaches up, fingers curling around Robert’s wrist. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.” Robert presses a brief, tender kiss to Aaron’s forehead. “So, what’s the story for when your mum and Liv ask?”

“Reckon they’ll buy that I walked into a door?” Aaron asks.

“No chance.”

“I got mugged?”

Robert considers. “Yeah, no. Who would want to mug you? You’ve got nothing valuable.”

“Oi,” Aaron says, grinning slightly when Robert laughs. Then he sighs. “I can’t tell Liv the truth. I don’t want her to see me like that. I don’t want her thinking that it’s okay to sort things out with her fists, just ‘cause I did.” 

“Mugging, then,” Robert says. “I’ll back you up.”

“Cheers.”

Robert finishes and clears up. With the blood cleaned from his face, Aaron doesn’t look that bad, actually; there’s a cut on his lip and bruising on his jaw, but nothing horrendous. At least his nose isn’t broken, anyway. 

“Come on,” he says. “Bed.”

“Bossy,” Aaron accuses, and Robert smiles.

“You love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be updating now until after Christmas, so I hope any of you who celebrate Christmas have an absolutely lovely time, and for those who don't, I hope you have an incredible couple of days <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: brief discussion of fighting and minor injuries; discussion of Gordon and past child sex abuse; Lachlan; homophobic insult; derogatory language; threats; reference to past self-harm and suicidal ideation; brief mention of recreational drugs; explicit sexual content; discussion of Jack and him beating Robert with his belt; description of injuries and scars; brief reference to past explicit content between Robert and Chrissie.

“Bloody _hell_. What happened to you?”

Aaron’s gaze flickers, briefly, to Robert before he sighs. Reluctantly, he leans back in his seat so Chas can carefully cradle his face, assessing the bruising on his jaw and the cut on his lip. She frowns and her gaze is sharp and knowing when she pulls back again. She’s seen plenty of fights, _been_ in plenty of them herself, to know what the damage from one looks like.

“I walked into a door?” Aaron offers. 

Chas puts her hands on her hips. “Aaron.”

“Fell down the stairs?” 

“Try again,” she warns.

“Tripped over me shoelaces.”

Chas’s mouth thins. “Aaron Dingle, I swear -.”

“He got mugged,” Robert cuts in. “Sort of, anyway. They tried but I scared them off.”

“You scared them off?” Chas repeats dubiously. “You?”

“Yeah, well, in the dark, he almost passes as intimidating, ya know,” Aaron says.

“Cheers,” Robert replies dryly. “That’s what I get for being your bodyguard?”

Chas folds her arms over her chest. “You obviously did a rubbish job, then. Look at him.”

“Like Rob said, the bastard caught me off guard. Whacked me before I even saw him coming. It ain’t Robert’s fault.”

“And you didn’t call the police?” she asks.

Aaron glances at Robert, scratching slightly at his eyebrow. “I, uh...”

“What’s up?”

The three of them turn to look at Liv as she steps into the room. She pauses when she spots Aaron, a frown creasing her face when she sees the bruises, and she moves to stand next to him.

“What happened?” she demands.

Chas looks between Aaron and Liv, then fixes a calm smile onto her face. She doesn’t believe a word of their story, not even for a second, but she’ll back them up and lie with them if it means protecting Liv, that much is clear.

“He got mugged,” Chas says. “And they hit him. Poor thing. He used to be tough, ya know.”

Liv’s frown deepens. “You what? When did this happen?”

“Last night,” Aaron replies. “It’s no big deal, Liv. Don’t worry. They hit me, tried to get my wallet while I was at the cash machine. Rob was nearby and he scared the bloke off. It’s fine.”

She looks at him for a long moment. “D’you think I’m thick or something?”

“What? No. ‘Course not.”

“You’re a rubbish liar, Aaron,” she says, then swings her gaze to Robert. “The first time we met, I was trying to nick Aaron’s wallet. You ran after me and I kicked you in the nuts, remember? I practically laid you out on the ground and you reckon you scared off some bloke? Come on.” 

“I got his wallet back from ya, didn’t I?” Robert points out, a little sullen. His ego’s still smarting from the incident. 

“Hang on,” Chas interrupts. “You tried to nick Aaron’s wallet?”

“Misunderstanding,” Aaron says, shaking his head. “Told ya. Rob’s my bodyguard. Fourteen year olds and greasy junkies everywhere should be scared.”

Robert throws him an unimpressed look at the ribbing and Aaron just grins back, completely unrepentant. 

“Mr Shifty here was being right weird last night,” Liv adds, jerking her thumb in Robert’s direction. “So I know something went on. Aaron, were you fighting?”

He shakes his head slightly, sobering. “Liv.”

“Is Shane taken care off?”

Aaron sighs. “Yeah. He won’t be causing any more hassle.”

“Good.” With that Liv, slumps into the chair across the table from Aaron and reaches for the carton of orange juice. 

“What did you do?” Chas asks.

“Ask Cain,” Aaron replies. “Look, it’s sorted. It was no big deal, yeah? And I’m fine.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“And have you worrying yourself sick over it, over me? No chance. Mum, seriously. It’s fine.”

She looks at him for a moment but, finally, nods slightly, accepting his word. Brushing her hand over Aaron’s shoulder, she turns to face Robert.

“I suppose I should just be grateful that you’re lying _for_ him now,” she says. “Instead of to save your own skin.”

“Mum,” Aaron warns, but Robert just smiles and shrugs.

“It’s the Dingle way, isn’t it?” he points out. “Lying for our own.”

Her eyes sparkle as she smiles back. “Yeah,” she agrees. She steps closer, reaching out to give his elbow a squeeze. “Whatever happened last night, I’m glad you were there, that you were looking out for him. Thank you.”

The hug she gives him is brief but warm and Robert glances over her shoulder at Aaron, smiling when he sees the soft, happy look on his boyfriend’s face. Seeing Robert get along with his family, especially his mum, obviously means a hell of a lot to him. Robert would be lying if he said it didn’t mean a lot to him, too. 

“Right, then,” she says when she pulls back. “I reckon I’d better go see our Cain.” She points a finger at Aaron. “Stay out of trouble, yeah?”

“Has that ever worked?” Robert asks curiously.

“He did stay out of trouble for about an hour once,” she replies. 

“Oi, what is this? Gang up on Aaron day?” Aaron complains, scowling. “I think I preferred it when you two were at each other’s throats.”

Chas just grins, ruffling his hair affectionately before she heads out. Aaron pulls a face and tries to smooth his hair back down again, shaking his head slightly. He catches Robert’s smirk and gives him a grumpy look.

“So,” Liv says. “The state of ya. I’m hoping he came out of it worse. ‘Cause otherwise it’s just embarrassing.”

Aaron frowns. “That ain’t funny,” he warns. “I did what I had to. He’s left the village and I doubt he’ll come back. I only knocked him around a little, it was a fair fight. But I didn’t want to do it. This is why I didn’t want to tell ya.”

“Because you’re trying to protect me.”

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t need you to, Aaron.” Liv sits back, folding her arms. “I get it. You’re trying to look out for me and I appreciate it. I do. I’ve never had anyone look out for me like you do, even me own mum, and you…look, you’re a better brother to me than Gordon ever was a dad, alright? But I don’t need you to hide things from me ‘cause you think I can’t handle knowing. You’ve never treated me like a dumb little kid. Don’t start now.”

He scratches slightly at his eyebrow. “I just don’t want you to think that it’s okay to settle things with your fists, just ‘cause I had to last night.”

“Yeah, I think the mess your face is in right now is warning enough against fighting, but cheers. Besides, you were banged up for GBH a few months ago. If I were gonna learn a lesson about using my fists, I would’ve done then, wouldn’t I?”

“But you knew I didn’t do it,” he replies. “That time.”

“That time,” she repeats slowly.

“Liv, I’m serious,” Aaron insists. “You’re smarter than me, yeah? Better than I ever was. I don’t want you repeating the same mistakes I did. You can get better qualifications, have a better life.”

Liv glances at Robert, unimpressed. “Does he put himself down this much with you and all?”

He shrugs, nods. “Pretty much. He’s stubborn.”

She turns her gaze back on Aaron. “You’ve got your own business, you’ve got yourself a bloke who’s alright, I suppose -.”

“Cheers,” Robert mutters.

“And in a few months, you’ll have your own place,” she continues. “Seems like you’re doing alright in life to me. Why _wouldn’t_ I want to be like you?”

“Because you can be _yourself_,” Aaron snaps back. “If you actually tried hard at school, with your inheritance from Gordon and – and some hard work, you could get whatever _you_ want out of life. I want that for ya, Liv.”

She sighs. “Look,” she says calmly. “I’ve got no interest in fighting, alright? I wouldn’t. Settling things with my fists, that’s just not my thing, yeah? And I would’ve told you that if _you’d_ just told me what was gonna happen. You’re my brother, Aaron, and I’m not some kid you need to protect. I get it. I do.” 

For a long moment, Aaron just gazes at her. Then he nods. “Okay. Good.”

“Just tell me things from now on, alright? Don’t lie to me. I hate it.”

“I won’t,” he promises. He hesitates. “I’m sorry. About prison.”

Liv shrugs. “I knew you didn’t do it.”

“But I still went away for it. I still let you down.”

“You didn’t,” she insists. 

Aaron looks away, brows drawing together in a sombre frown. “I also didn’t want to tell ya about last night ‘cause…’cause I don’t want you to think that I’m like him.” He pauses, then forces out, “Gordon, I mean. I don’t want to let you down like he did. But getting banged up for assault, getting into a fight and hitting someone, lying to ya…I _am_ letting you down, aren’t I?”

Robert reaches out, resting his hand on Aaron’s wrist. He wants to say something, wants to argue and reassure him, because the thought of Aaron comparing himself to his evil, sick bastard of a father has grief crackling in Robert’s ribcage. But he can’t and he knows it. This is something that Liv has to talk to Aaron about, not him. All he can do is curl his fingers around Aaron’s, offering him silent comfort.

“You are _nothing_ like him,” Vic snaps, voice rising in her vehemence. “You don’t hurt people, Aaron. Not like he did. You’re not sick or cruel or – or twisted like him. You don’t hurt people, you don’t lie and manipulate and twist people up to save your own skin, you don’t – you don’t _use_ people, or make them feel like dirt. Not to anyone, but especially not to me. You never tried to manipulate me, never made me false promises to get me to do what you wanted. You told me the truth. Even when I was being stupid, even though it hurt ya, you still answered my questions. You looked out for me, even when it meant confronting Gordon. You didn’t try and force me to speak against Gordon in court. The only thing you ever cared about was if I were okay. You’ve never let me down, Aaron. Not once. You’re my best mate, okay? You’re _nothing_ like him.”

Aaron’s eyes gleam with unshed tears. He holds them back, bottles it up in that silent, fiercely controlled way of his, withdrawing and internalising it, but Liv, thankfully, is having none of it. Her chair scrapes back as she snaps up to her feet and rounds the table, hugging her brother. He hugs her back tight and lets the tears fall, relief and gratitude and an aching, lost kind of grief on his face, and Robert gives them their moment, knowing the comfort is something they both need.

When she pulls back, she flicks his shoulder, giving a damp smile when he scowls despite the fact that there’s no way it actually hurt.

“Are you taking the day off work?” she asks. 

Aaron shakes his head. “Nah, I’m going up in a bit.”

Robert frowns. “Adam can handle it for a day. You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, well, luckily, I don’t need my face to haul bits of scrap about, do I?”

“No, but you might scare off the customers,” Liv remarks.

“Adam’s been doing that from the start,” Robert replies, and she laughs slightly.

“Yeah, and he also ran the place on his own while I were behind bars,” Aaron points out. “I won’t let him down again.”

“Oi, I helped.”

“With the pencil pushing, maybe,” Aaron jokes. “No offence, but I can’t really see you keeping up with the physical labour of the job. I still remember that pipe.”

“It was wedged in proper tight!” Robert protests.

“And I got it out with one pull -.”

“I’d loosened it for ya -.”

“It turned out you didn’t even _need_ it, you stubborn prat.” Aaron shakes his head, gaze fond. “Look, I’ll be fine, yeah? But you,” he taps Liv on the arm. “Fancy helping out?”

As usual, Liv doesn’t miss a trick. “Do I get paid for it?”

Aaron considers. “A tenner and I’ll buy you some fries from Maccies later,” he offers.

“Make it twenty and a burger meal and I’m in.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows, incredulous, and Robert laughs.

“Are you sure you’re not a Dingle?” he asks her. “’Cause you fit right in with their lot.”

She shrugs. “Well, I’m not a Livesy, and I’m not a Flaherty, either, not really. Might as well be an honorary Dingle.” 

Robert doesn’t miss the expression on Aaron’s face, soft and happy, at the thought of Liv being a Dingle like him. Aaron doesn’t comment on it, though, just nods.

“Fine,” he says. “Deal.”

“Really? Sound. I would’ve gone down to fifteen.” Liv drains the rest of her juice. “You really need to work on your bartering skills.”

***

Cain finds them in the pub that evening.

They’re tucked into the quieter booth right in the corner. Aaron looks completely knackered, exhausted and a little dirty after a long day at the yard; there’s smears of engine grease on his face and oil on his hands, and he smells of hot metal. 

It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, but Robert’s discovered that he finds Aaron pretty much _always_ gorgeous, and he’d be lying if he didn’t miss his grease monkey days at the garage; would be lying if he didn’t have fond memories of the overalls and oil and strong, capable hands handling wrenches and tools with smooth, practised ease, touch gentle and delicate when it needed to be in a way that was almost sensual, and rougher, stronger when a stubborn part of the car warranted it in a way that had heat spilling in Robert’s belly whenever he witnessed it.

Liv looks almost as tired, slumped back in her seat, attention on her phone as her thumbs move rapidly over the screen. Robert’s a little weary himself after sorting out a client for most of the afternoon, but he perks up when he sees Cain marching towards them. He stops next to the booth, gaze landing on Liv.

“Oi,” he says. “Scram.”

She looks up, gives a dismissive scoff, and returns her gaze to her phone. Robert bites back a grin, tempted to take a picture of the expression on Cain’s face at having two people in as many days be completely, coolly unafraid of him. He reckons it would make a good background for his phone. 

“It’s fine,” Aaron says with a smile. “She knows.”

Cain just grunts and settles heavily into the seat next to Robert so he’s facing Aaron. “I spoke to Grant.”

Aaron nods. “Yeah?”

“Shane won’t be coming back or starting any more trouble,” Cain says lowly. “In fact, he’s gone for good, I reckon. He’s left.”

“Left?” Robert repeats. 

“Yeah. Apparently, a couple of Grant’s cousins found out that Shane’s the little scrote who dobbed them into the council about some fake licensing nonsense a while ago, _and_ he nicked about five grand from them, too. They’re out for his blood. So Grant knocked some sense into him, gave him some cash, and told him to get lost and _stay_ lost for good, otherwise he’d get his head kicked in.”

“Nice,” Aaron remarks. “So, it’s over?”

“It’s over,” Cain confirms. He eyes Aaron for a moment. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Cheers, Cain.”

He shrugs. “Next time, don’t be an idiot and come talk to me first, yeah?”

“Hang on, you’re _always_ telling us lot to sort out our own problems instead of whining to you,” Aaron points out.

Cain just glowers at him. “Don’t be a prat. Anyway, you owe me a pint.”

Aaron shuffles out of the booth and approaches the bar. After a moment, Robert squeezes out, too, following behind Aaron. He rests a hand on his back as they lean against the bar, waiting for Charity to finish serving another punter.

“Okay?” Robert checks.

Aaron looks at him. A small smile curls on his lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. It’s really over.”

Robert presses a kiss to his temple. “It’s over,” he agrees. “So, now we can focus on us for a bit, yeah? Maybe actually agree on the barn renovations.”

“Maybe when you actually get some taste, we _will_ agree,” Aaron replies.

“Sorry, since when did _you_ have taste?”

He shrugs with his mouth. “Good point, actually. I did agree to move in with ya, after all.”

“Oi!” Robert reaches out to tickle at his sides and Aaron laughs, pulling away.

“Oh, get a room,” Charity complains, pulling a face as she sets two pints on the bar for them. “I forgot what it was like living with a loved up couple. Eugh.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Robert remarks, catching Aaron’s gaze. He nods slightly with his chin. “Upstairs?” He suggests.

Charity rolls her eyes. “Subtle,” she quips, but then pauses, looking over Robert’s shoulder. “Actually, maybe going upstairs isn’t a bad idea.”

Aaron frowns and twists round to look at whatever it is Charity’s staring at. Robert turns too and feels exasperation snuff out the contentedness in his chest. He and Aaron just can’t catch a bloody break, it seems.

Lachlan’s face is tanned and his neck and arms are raw with sunburn, the bright red broken up only by pale strips of skin where his sleeves or watch protected his flesh. There’s a sullen sneer on his face and when he sees the two of them at the bar, he saunters over. 

Charity rolls her eyes. “Oh, here we go,” she says. “I thought he’d done one for good. I was just starting to enjoy not seeing him around.”

Lachlan hears her comment and his gaze goes cold, but he smirks as he leans against the bar. “Yeah, we went away for a few weeks. Dubai. It was great, but I suppose you wouldn’t know.” He casts a disparaging look between the three of them. “Way out of your budget.”

“Uh, he’s minted,” Charity says, gesturing to Robert with her thumb. “With his own money, rather than mummy’s, so I reckon he’s doing better than you, actually. And I’ve been to Dubai.”

“Me too,” Aaron adds. When Charity looks at him, surprised, he says, “When I was a kid. Gordon and Sandra dragged me with ‘em. I was only there for a couple of days. I nicked some cash from some rich prat at the hotel, so Gordon sent me off on an early flight back. You?”

“On the run,” she answers. “Met a bloke with a flash car, let him whisk me off my feet. Got me away from the coppers for a bit, anyway.”

“I went with Chrissie,” Robert offers. “Gave her a break from her lot.” 

Lachlan’s upper lip curls at being completely dismissed. He turns to face Aaron and the gleam in his eyes is familiar. Charity’s eyes narrow in warning, but Lachlan ignores it, his attention on Robert and Aaron now. 

“I heard you had a bit of a holiday, too, didn’t you?” he remarks. “Though I imagine it was a lot less sunny than where I went. Plenty of men, though, so I reckon you were happy.”  
Aaron just smiles. “A gay joke. Original. Your digs are getting old, mate.”

“Why don’t you just get lost, Lachlan?” Robert suggests.

Lachlan’s gaze snaps to him. “I’m fine here, thanks. You don’t get to drive me out of here, too.”

Aaron does his baffled shrug-smile, huffing a laugh that’s closer to a scoff. “He hasn’t driven you out of anywhere, you weirdo,” he points out. “You did that to yourself.”

“_Everything_ that has happened since we moved here is down to him.” Lachlan jabs a finger in Robert’s direction, sneers, “It’s down to _you_. This is all your fault.”

Robert feels a wisp of anger flicker to life in his gut, but Aaron catches his gaze, and it’s enough to ground him, to cool him down again. Shaking his head, he picks up his pint, taking a sip. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I cheated on Chrissie, and, yeah, I lied and I manipulated and I schemed. Whatever you want to throw at me, yeah, chances are, I did it.” He shrugs. “But you being a psychotic little freak? You were already that well before I met your mum. That’s not down to me, Lachlan. That’s all you.”

His jaw goes tight, chin wobbling slightly, cold, brutal fury leashed behind his gaze. Unsurprisingly, he turns that glare onto Aaron, and Robert sees it, gets the pattern now. When he has nothing to throw at Robert, nothing to hurt him with, he uses Aaron instead to get to him, sees what he thinks is an easy target in Aaron. It’s calculated and it’s cruel, and it’s also bloody _stupid_: if Aaron was any less restrained, any less in control of himself and his own anger, he’d have wiped the floor with Lachlan long before now. Lachlan just hasn’t realised it yet. Robert half-wishes to witness him finding it out, but he doesn’t want Aaron to get locked up again.

“You know he’ll get bored of you?” Lachlan taunts. “The second he’s had enough of you, he’ll go and fuck some other whore behind your back. You’ll wind up just like all the others, sat at home waiting for him while he’s balls deep in someone else. It’s pathetic. _You’re_ pathetic.”

“Oi,” Charity warns. “I suggest you leave. Before I _make_ you leave.”

Robert’s aware of Cain getting to his feet, moving to stand at Robert’s side, but he doesn’t look away from Aaron. But Lachlan’s words have little effect; they slide off Aaron like rain on a window. Huffing a laugh, Aaron shakes his head.

“Nah, he can stay,” he says. “And he can say what he likes. It don’t bother me.” He glances at Lachlan, expression nonchalant. “You won’t get a rise out of me, mate. So say whatever it is you wanna say, yeah? Get it all out. And then get lost.”

Aaron’s clear indifference, the blasé dismissal, has dark anger slashing across Lachlan’s face. He clenches his teeth hard enough to hollow his cheeks slightly, jaw sharp, and steps closer, getting in Aaron’s face. Charity reaches a hand out, a warning in her expression, and Cain moves closer too, but Aaron remains completely relaxed and unperturbed. He takes a drink from his beer, unmoved by Lachlan’s proximity.

“What?” Lachlan jeers. “Did you find Jesus in prison or something? Turn over a new leaf?”

Aaron smiles slightly. “Nah, not really, no.”

“I’m surprised,” Lachlan continues venomously. “I was sure you’d end up topping yourself. Like father, like son.”

Fierce anger bubbles under Robert’s skin, searing through his bones. He steps forward and Cain reaches out towards Lachlan.

“Right,” he grits out. “I’ve had enough of you, ya scrote.”

But Aaron’s own hand flashes out, blocking Cain from getting closer to Lachlan. He doesn’t look his way, just carefully pushes Cain back slightly, a wordless reprimand that he’s got a handle on the situation. 

Despite Lachlan’s jibe at Gordon, Aaron doesn’t tense. He doesn’t even frown. He just shrugs slightly with his mouth, nodding a little.

“You done?” he asks.

Lachlan’s expression turns stony. Instead of withering under Aaron’s lack of a reaction, his rage clearly grows, spiralling out of his control. It’s cold in his gaze, apparent in the sharp line of his shoulders and tightness in his jaw, the way his hands flex into fists at his sides. 

“You,” he spits, focused on Robert now. “All of this is because of you. My dad is _gone_ because of you.”

“And there we have it,” Robert replies. “The real reason you’re throwing a wobbly. I didn’t have anything to do with what happened. That was all your mum.” 

“She only did it because you were jealous -.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want to believe,” Robert cuts him off. “But it’s funny you keep throwing Gordon at Aaron, because you? You’re a walking advert for the perils of daddy issues. Your dad didn’t want ya. He was just using you for money. So grow up, Lachlan. None of your actions are my fault.”

“Easy,” Aaron says lowly. “He’s just a brat, Robert. Leave him.”

“Yeah,” Cain mutters. “He’ll lose steam in a minute and toddle off back home to mummy for a nap.”

Lachlan’s eyes narrow, derision sharpening the anger on his face. “Maybe he was just using me for money,” he bites out. “But at least he didn’t love me so much he’d slip into my bed at night.” 

Charity’s hand slams down on the bar. “Robert,” she warns, tone harder than granite. “You’d better get him out of here before I knock his teeth in.”

Cain snaps forwards. “What teeth? There won’t be any left by the time I’m -.”

He’s cut off by Aaron turning and cutting between him and Lachlan. He’s facing Lachlan properly now, just inches apart, but his hands are tucked into his pockets, posture loose and relaxed, unthreatening. Even as he blocks Cain from getting to Lachlan, he’s trying to disengage from any physical violence, carefully restraining himself despite Lachlan’s sick taunts.

“I didn’t top myself,” he says calmly, gaze on Lachlan’s. “’Cause I have things to live for. I have a family. I have Robert. I’m happy, mate. Actually, properly happy. But what have you got? Nothing. And that’s your own fault. It’s down to _you_. Not us. Not anyone else. Just you. So grow up and get lost.”

Lachlan’s hand flashes towards Aaron’s half-empty pint and it’s clear what he’s thinking, obvious from the unhinged, raw fury on his face that he’s going to try and bottle Aaron, wants to lash out and make him bleed, make him _hurt_. Robert and Cain move together, but someone else gets there first, hauling Lachlan back. 

“Right,” Adam snaps, gripping Lachlan tight by the collar. “Consider yourself barred, you little runt.”

“Get your hands off me!” Lachlan protests.

He struggles viciously. They’re not that different in height, but Adam’s stronger than he looks from years of hard graft on the farm and at the scrapyard, and however much of Lachlan’s poison he’d overheard, he’s clearly fucking _fuming_. He starts to shove Lachlan towards the doors, but one opens before they get to it.

Chrissie stops short, face going slack as she registers what’s going on, and then her heels clatter as she rushes over. Reaching out, she tries to pry Adam’s grip loose.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she demands. “Let him _go_!”

“He was kicking off at Aaron again,” Robert snaps. “Saying stuff about Gordon. He’s lucky he isn’t getting a beating.”

Chrissie’s jaw tightens. She grips Lachlan’s shoulder, pulling slightly. “Come on,” she says lowly. “I told you to leave them be.”

He yanks on his arm, shrugging her off violently. “And why the hell should I do anything _you_ say?” He spits.

Shock, grief and muted humiliation flash across her face and she loosens her grip completely. Adam starts dragging Lachlan easily, hauling him towards the doors, and Lachlan struggles, tries to plant his feet, face ruddy from rage as he throws a hand towards Robert over Adam’s shoulder.

“You’ll pay,” he promises, the threat seething between his teeth. “You never cared about us. You never cared about mum, or anything except _yourself_. But now you do, don’t you? And I’m going to make sure you lose all of it. I’m going to make you _pay_.”

Adam tosses him easily through the doors. Cain moves to stand next to him, a dangerous glower on his face.

“Stay out,” he snaps. “This is your last warning. Next time, I’ll give you a kicking and all.”

Chrissie pushes and squeezes between them, hurrying out to deal with her son, and Cain closes the doors again. Adam brushes his hands together, frowning, as he and Cain walk back to the bar. Aaron relaxes slightly, looks relieved that Adam had shown enough restraint to not hit Lachlan, and he exhales slowly when Adam reaches out to clap him gently on the shoulder.

“Alright?” he asks. “I heard that last bit about Gordon. What else did he say?”

“Same old stuff.” Aaron shrugs. “Boring, really.”

Cain eyes him. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I can handle it,” Aaron says firmly. “Really. He’s just a mouthy little prick. But it’s just words. They can’t hurt me anymore. _Gordon_ can’t hurt me anymore. So I’m fine, okay?”

He turns back towards the bar and picks up his pint, draining the rest of it. Robert reaches out, resting a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, still reeling slightly. But he’s proud, unbelievably so. Aaron had resisted lashing out, refused to rise to Lachlan’s nasty taunts, refused to be baited. He hadn’t let Lachlan get to him, no matter what, and, despite how much he still hurts, he hadn’t let the jeers about Gordon affect him, either. He’d refused to let Lachlan _or_ Gordon hurt him again.

He’s come so far, and Robert’s so fucking proud.

But he’s angry, too. Furious, in the ruthless, seething, almost incomprehensible way that he’s only truly felt a few times in his life. He knows rage, knows his own capacity for destruction, but this is it at its peak. 

Chas’s chat with Chrissie had done nothing and it’s more obvious than ever that Lachlan bitterly resents his mother, that he won’t listen to her or do anything she says anymore. She has absolutely no control over him. He’s a loose cannon, vindictive and spiteful. He keeps running his mouth off and he keeps targeting Aaron, and Robert’s sick of it.  
If he’s honest, though, he’s scared, too. Lachlan’s threat as Adam shoved him out of the pub keeps ringing over and over in his head. He’d promised to destroy everything that Robert cares about.

Robert could cope with anything Lachlan targets him directly with. He isn’t afraid of Lachlan, isn’t scared of what the scrote could try and do to him. But losing Aaron? Losing the man he loves more than anything? Losing the family he’s found, the family that he’s become a part of?

He can’t. He couldn’t handle it. The thought alone has his heart shuddering with cold, terrified grief. It would be easy to dismiss Lachlan, the way everyone always has done, but it’s only ever blown up in their faces in the past. Lachlan is vicious and unpredictable, especially when wounded. When he feels victimised, when he feels backed into a corner, there’s no telling _what_ he will do, no telling just how far he will go, and the lack of control over Lachlan, over the whole situation, has dread coiling down Robert’s spine.

“Oi,” Aaron says quietly. “Alright?”

He sighs, nodding. “I’m just sick of it,” he murmurs. “Seeing him all the time. Sick of him having a go. I’m bloody sick of him targeting you.”

He shrugs. “It’s expected, innit?” he points out. “I mean, in his eyes, I’m the other bloke. I’m the one you cheated on his mum with. ‘Course he hates me. I can handle it, Robert. It’s okay.”

“He needs to get over it.”

“He’s messed up and angry, and he’s pissed off at ya,” Aaron says calmly. “It’s no surprise he keeps having a go.”

“Yeah, but it should just be me, not you,” Robert insists. “Every time he brings up Gordon, I just – I want to throttle him.”

“Me too,” he admits. “But he’s just a kid. He gets off on pushing people’s buttons and hurting them. He’s tapped, Rob. Don’t give him the satisfaction. He’ll get bored eventually and move on to whatever other twisted scheme he thinks up.” He rests his hand on Robert’s arm. “Besides, it takes two, don’t it? I jumped into bed with ya. I was willing for the whole affair. So why should you take all of the blame for it? You don’t have to protect me from everything, Robert.”

“I wish I could,” he says quietly.

“I know. And I love ya for that. But it’s not your responsibility. I’m not gonna fall apart, alright?” Aaron leans closer, eyebrows raising slightly. “Let me protect you and all, yeah?”

Robert lifts his hand, cupping the back of Aaron’s neck. “I love you.”

“I know.” Aaron dips in to press a quick, soft kiss to Robert’s mouth. “Look, he’s wrong. Yeah, the affair, you meddling with that family…I get that he’s pissed off about that. But the other stuff? Nah. You’re not responsible for him, either, or his actions. He’s the way he is because he chooses to be. Because he _likes_ it. And he’d rather blame everyone else than take ownership of his own messed up behaviour. That’s not on you, Robert. So just forget about him. He ain’t worth it.”

He sighs, relaxing as he leans into Aaron’s touch. “You’re right.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s usually smart to listen to me.” He smiles slightly. “A bloke once told me that I make a lot of sense.”

“Sounds like a great bloke,” Robert quips.

“Nah, bit of a prat, actually,” Aaron replies dryly. “Dead arrogant and persistent, and he has this tendency to be a right knob. But he does look pretty fit in a suit, so.”

Robert huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He leans in to kiss Aaron again, but Liv interrupts them, her expression set into a dark scowl that doesn’t quite hide her concern. She’s angry about Lachlan, that much is obvious, but Aaron talks her down with the same steady, almost apathetic logic as before. 

Draining the rest of his pint, Robert watches Aaron push Liv towards the archway to the back, encouraging her to go and get some sleep since she’s practically dead on her feet. A knot of worry still lingers, tight and bleak, in his gut, but he’s soothed somewhat by Aaron’s reassurance. He’s right. 

Lachlan will move on eventually. And if he doesn’t, he’ll move _physically_, hopefully all the way to Australia with Chrissie and Lawrence, and neither Robert or Aaron will ever have to deal with him again.

***

Summer creeps steadily into August, bringing with it the first wisp of cooler weather in preparation for Autumn. Intermittent rain showers cloak Emmerdale, warm and damp but not unpleasant, and after a hot July, the wet weather is crucial for the crops. 

Two weeks into August, Robert has to leave for five days in Amsterdam. He knows he’s lucky, knows that being approached for an international contract this early on in his business is rare and an incredible shot at expanding to cater for global clients as well as those closer to home, but he doesn’t feel that little thrill on the flight, doesn’t feel a steely, exhilarated anticipation for securing an important deal. Instead, he finds that he misses home, misses Emmerdale and the pub, even misses Chas and Charity.

Most of all, he misses Aaron.

Since Amsterdam is, thankfully, only an hour’s time difference from home, he gets to touch base with Aaron every day, either in the morning or in the evening. Evenings are Robert’s favourite because neither of them have anywhere they need to be. Instead of rushing, they can just take some time to talk. 

On his final night, they set up a video call. It’s a little strange at first, since it’s not something they’ve done before, usually sticking to phonecalls and texts. But the hotel has excellent Wi-Fi so the video quality is good, and seeing Aaron’s face after a few days without him is a comfort. 

It’s pretty hot in Amsterdam; he’s switched on the room’s air conditioning, has the balcony doors open, and the sheets scrunched up at the bottom of the bed as he sprawls on the mattress, propping his tablet up against a mountain of pillows so he can see Aaron. His hotel room is well lit, including some soft, warm golden light spilling from little circular bulbs set into the wall above the headboard. 

Their room at the pub is a little dark, however; Aaron’s only switched on the bedside lamp, so half of his face is pitched into shadow. He looks knackered and a little sleep-rumpled, wearing one of Robert’s T-shirts, the Burberry cotton jersey that cost ninety quid and Aaron’s managed to get what looks like a pizza stain smeared into the fabric near the collar. Robert finds he doesn’t really mind. He actually feels fond, staring at Aaron’s scruffy, sleepy state. 

“Long day?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, voice a little scratchy. “I was just kipping, actually.”

Robert glances at the clock. “Isn’t it eight there?” He grins slightly. “And you’re having to take naps? Aw. You’re getting old.”

Aaron doesn’t miss a beat. “Bold words coming from the thirty year old. You’re ancient, mate.”

He smiles, folding his arm under his head as he gazes at the screen. “Nice,” he remarks. “Sure you want to stick with an old bloke?”

Aaron’s mouth pulls down as he pretends to consider. “Well, you are minted, so.”

“Careful. I’ll start to think you’re only with me ‘cause of my money.”

Aaron shrugs. “The fact that you’re fit don’t hurt, either.”

Robert laughs slightly. “Cheers. Really, though. You look shattered.”

“We had that massive delivery of copper pipes,” he reminds him. “And then this bloke came by unannounced and dropped off a load of electronics on the drive. An old washing machine, a massive fridge-freezer unit, even one of those gas stove things. Since Adam went and broke his hand, I had to haul them off the drive on my own and sharpish, since they were right in the way. Then I had to go and pick up an old Cortina and completely strip it for parts.” He rubs at his eyes, yawning. “I’m dead on my feet. How was your day?”

“Spent most of it at the client’s office,” Robert answers. 

“Sounds exhausting,” he jokes. “Poor you.”

“Yeah, all that fancy air conditioning, Dutch coffee, and a three course lunch paid for from the company’s pocket. It was a really tough day.” 

“Jammy bastard,” Aaron mutters, and Robert grins.

“I miss ya.”

His face softens slightly. “I miss ya too, you prat.”

Robert stretches out, then smirks a little as he asks, “So…what’re you wearing right now?”

“A pressure suit,” Aaron replies flatly. “Full coverage. Proper sexy.”

He laughs. “What? Phone sex not your thing?”

“I’d rather you were here. I’d rather touch ya, fuck you while you come. A video call ain’t the same.”

The gravelly heat in Aaron’s tone has arousal curling, thick and heavy, in Robert’s belly. He shifts slightly, kicking the sheet aside properly when it tangles around his ankles. Aaron must see the desire on his face before he smirks slightly. 

“Show me your room, then,” he says.

Robert reluctantly pushes himself up, climbing off the bed. He holds the tablet up so he can take Aaron on a virtual tour of the room. When he’s done, he steps out onto the balcony, the slight breeze refreshing on his bare skin as he shows Aaron the view. It is pretty spectacular, the lights spilling from buildings reflecting off the calm surface of the Amstel, smudging hazy gold and white across the dark sheet of water.

“Nice,” Aaron comments. 

“We could come here sometime,” Robert suggests. “For a weekend getaway or something.”

“What? No Marbs?” he jokes.

Grinning, he flips the camera to face him again. “Maybe another time.”

Aaron’s brows draw together. “Hang on, are you naked?”

“I’m wearing boxers.” He dips the tablet slightly so Aaron can see.

“Are those _my_ boxers?”

“Could be,” he replies evenly. “Is that my shirt?”

“…Fair point,” Aaron acknowledges. “You gone to any of the cafes yet?”

“A few,” Robert replies dryly, shuffling back into the room. “The coffee scene is great here.”

“The coffee scene,” he repeats, rolling his eyes slightly. “Pretentiousness aside, you haven’t tried the weed, then?”

“I’m here for work,” he points out. 

“All work and no play,” Aaron says, words fractured by a long yawn. “Gotta unwind somehow.”

Robert smiles, fond. “There’ll be plenty of unwinding when I get home tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”

He nods. “See you tomorrow. I love ya.”

“I know.” 

With that, he hangs up, grinning slightly. It’s less than twenty seconds before a message comes through on his tablet from Aaron. It’s just one word:

_Prat_.

Huffing a quiet laugh, he types a quick message back.

_I love you too_.

***

Robert arrives back in England a few hours early, tanned and tired.

Unsurprisingly, it’s raining when his flight lands, and it doesn’t let up throughout the taxi journey from Leeds Bradford to Emmerdale. By the time he pulls up outside the Woolpack, the drizzle has turned into a real downpour, warm rain slanting diagonally, pattering a beat on the windows. 

He pays and tips the driver and grabs his weekend bag, jogging through the soggy weather and into the pub. It’s early afternoon, so it’s pretty quiet, just a couple of regulars propping up the bar and Paddy, Rhona and Leo seated in one of the booths, eating some lunch. Chas is behind the bar and she looks up, surprised to see him. 

“Hiya, love,” she greets. “Good trip?”

“It was okay,” he replies. “Aaron about? Or is he up at the yard?”

“Back there,” she points over her shoulder with her thumb. 

“Cheers.”

He ducks behind the bar and through to the back. Aaron’s at the table, a mug of tea and packet of crisps in front of him as he hunches over some admin for the scrapyard. His brow furrows slightly as he concentrates, expression serious but not sullen, and Robert watches him for a moment, smiling. Then he lets his bag slide down his arm, hitting the floor with a muted thud. Aaron glances his way, then does a double-take and gets to his feet. 

“I thought your flight was this evening?” he says. “I was supposed to come pick you up.”

“I managed to get an earlier flight,” he replies. “I wanted to surprise ya.”

Aaron smiles and crosses the space between them. His hands find the collar of Robert’s lightweight jacket, pulling him into a slow, firm kiss. He tastes of too-strong tea, prawn cocktail crisps and the lingering sharpness of mint toothpaste, and Robert sinks into it, closing his eyes as he cups Aaron’s face and kisses him back.

When they part slightly and he opens his eyes, he finds Aaron already looking at him, gaze soft and open. He kisses him again, brief and sweet, before drifting his thumb over Aaron’s jaw.

“I missed ya,” Aaron murmurs.

“I was only gone a few days,” he points out, unable to help his smile.

“Yeah, well, I got used to you being around and getting on my nerves, didn’t I?” Aaron retorts. “It was weird actually getting some peace and quiet for once.”

“Peace and quiet? Round here, with your lot?”

“…Point taken.”

Robert grins. “But, hey, if it’s some peace and quiet you want…” He trails off and pulls away, making as if to leave.

“Oi, get back here.” Aaron catches him by his arms, reeling him in again. “Charity and Noah are out all day.”

“Yeah, but your mum’s about.”

Aaron nods. “Barn?”

“Barn.”

***

Later, sprawled out on the cheap, thin mattress Robert had bought solely for the purpose of sex in the barn, he turns his head, gazing at Aaron. They’re both breathless and sticky, sweat cooling on their bare skin.

Outside, the rain drums on the stone walls, slants slightly through the glassless windows. It’s not cold, not really; the air is stale and a little warm, but not unbearably so, the rain cooling off the scorching temperatures. A slight wisp of wind rattles the locked doors, the only noise disturbing the peace. It smells a little musty, like damp dust and old stone, but the rain brings with it a freshness, a grassy, earth-like cleanliness. Robert tries to remember the word, finally finds it tripping off the back of his tongue.

“Petrichor,” he says aloud.

Aaron glances at him. “Bless you?” he offers, and Robert laughs.

“No, petrichor. It’s the smell.”

“What smell?”

“After rain,” he says. “That smell in the air. It’s called petrichor. I read it in a book.”

Aaron’s brow furrows, a slight smile tipping up his mouth. “Okay. Weirdo.”

“Yeah, well, some of us have a vocabulary that isn’t limited to grunts and insults,” he teases.

“Dunno,” Aaron replies dryly. “Your vocabulary was pretty limited a few minutes ago.”

Robert laughs slightly, conceding the point with a shrug of his shoulder. He’d been pretty loud, but so had Aaron, his usual quietness gone in the wake of Robert’s mouth and hands on him, and Robert can admit that he finds it intoxicating, the way the slick kiss of sweat-damp flesh and the hoarse, passionate sounds of their voices echoed in the emptiness of the barn, a cacophony around them as they made love.

He’s sticky from lube, his own come drying unpleasantly on his stomach. He aches a little, but he savours it, loves it; he craves that deep, hot, delicious ache that lingers after being fucked by Aaron. 

Rolling onto his side, he reaches out, resting his hand on Aaron’s belly. He doesn’t even twitch when Robert’s fingertips trace his scars. He just gazes up at the wooden beams above them, a lazy smile on his face.

The wind picks up a little, soughing as it rushes through the trees and overgrown grass outside. It seeps through the gaps in the doors and the empty windows and Robert shivers, wishing he’d thought to bring a blanket up here and all, but when he’d set the mattress up, they’d still been in the middle of a heatwave. 

“Too cold to sleep here,” he murmurs, but he yawns as he says it, tired from a busy week, travel, and two rounds of pretty incredible sex. 

“Like I would anyway,” Aaron scoffs. “I’m pretty sure I saw a rat over there earlier.” 

“You say that like you have standards,” Robert jokes. “Honestly, I book us a nice hotel room one time and suddenly you’re all high maintenance.”

“High maintenance? Me?” He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m happy with an old barn and some hay, mate. But I draw the line at rats watching us while you’re balls deep inside me.”

“Not into exhibitionism then?”

“Not that kind, no.”

Robert looks at him, curiosity firmly snagged by that. He himself has never had much of an exhibitionism kink before, but he’s definitely interested in exploring it with Aaron. He likes pretty much anything when it comes to sex with Aaron, if he’s honest.

Aaron sees his expression and rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about you bending me over in the middle of the village,” he says. “I’m not keen on PDA, you know that.”

“But…?” 

“But I’ve shagged you in the garage, in barns, in the car…hell, I gave you a blowie in that lay-by, remember?” Aaron shrugs slightly.

“You like the risk of being caught,” Robert says. “Bit ironic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to _be_ caught, though,” he replies. “So don’t get any ideas, yeah?”

Robert grins and presses closer to kiss him. “How’s Adam’s arm?”

Aaron frowns, tugging gently on Robert’s lip with his teeth before he lets go. “Can we not talk about Adam while your cock is touching mine?”

He huffs a laugh. “Just wondered how you’ve been coping at the yard, that’s all.”

“Adam did all the admin,” he replies. “Since he managed to break the hand he _doesn’t_ use to write, at least.”

“How did he break it, anyway?”

“Darts.” When Robert pulls a baffled face, Aaron shakes his head and adds, “Don’t ask.”

“I doubt the explanation would be any less confusing,” he agrees.

Aaron yawns, fingertips grazing up and down Robert’s spine. “Andy actually helped out with that massive load of stuff that was dumped on our drive. The washing machine and that.”

“Andy?” Robert repeats, surprised.

“Yeah. Vic told him about Adam’s break and that I was struggling, so he came up, said he had the day off and reckoned he could lend a hand.” 

“That’s…”

“Nice,” Aaron finishes. “Yeah. It was weird. I mean, he’s an alright bloke, I suppose. But he’s not exactly my biggest fan, is he? And I’m still pissed at him.”

“Because you went to prison,” Robert agrees quietly.

Aaron looks at him, frowning. “No. I mean, yeah, but I got over that. I’m pissed that he got you shot. That he tried to have you killed.”

Warmth unfurls in Robert’s chest. No matter how unpredictable Aaron can be, no matter how, in the past, he’s been scared of him, or wary of him…it’s undeniable that, now, Aaron never fails to make him feel safe, protected, and loved. It’s a feeling Robert doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to or take for granted. He doesn’t _want_ to get used to it.

“I know you and him get on now, since you gave him a hand at the farm, but.” Aaron shrugs slightly. “I dunno. It was awkward.”

Robert smiles. “I bet. He’s trying, though. To get on with ya and put things behind him.”

“I know. I get it and I appreciate it. I suppose life would be easier for everyone if we could all move on.”

Robert doesn’t say anything for a long, quiet moment. He gazes at Aaron’s face, watches how the cool light splicing the shadows of the barn highlights the dips and curves of his jaw, nose and cheeks, spilling a pale glow over his chest and scars. 

“I told him something,” he finally says, voice hushed in the vastness of the barn. “And he was – he was really good about it. A lot better than I ever expected. That’s why we get on now. And I reckon it’s why he’s trying so much now with the both of us.”

Aaron rolls onto his side, looking at Robert. “What?” he prompts, tone so gentle it seems to cradle Robert’s heart in delicate, loving hands.

And he tells him. All of it, everything, about being caught by Jack, about the snap of his belt and the burn of the buckle breaking skin, about the disgust and disappointment and anger in his own father’s face as he stared down at his son and saw something he hated, saw someone he resented because he still loved him. He tells him about pushing that part of him down, refusing to acknowledge it, spending years running from it, refusing it’s existence. Tells him how it felt when he finally said it, out loud, ‘I’m bisexual’, and how the relief and solace he feels still doesn’t chase away the bitterness and hurt that still consumes him after what Jack did.

Aaron listens, an aching, sombre kind of understanding on his face. He lets Robert spill it all out and it feels right. Telling Andy had been a respite after years of bottling it up, but telling Aaron feels easier, feels like a weight being lifted off his chest; it feels like he can finally breathe properly after a decade of not realising he was suffocating. He’s vaguely aware of tears running down his cheeks and Aaron reaches out, gently brushing them away with his thumbs.

“Can I see?” he asks quietly when Robert’s done.

Robert closes his eyes and rolls onto his other side. He doubts Aaron will be able to see them in the dim light of the barn. They’ve faded practically into non-existence, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still there, that Robert can’t still _feel_ them; they don’t hurt, not anymore, but he’s aware of them whenever he’s naked, aware of their capacity to remind him of the one day he wishes he could forget. Three of them, imperceptible, raised lines; one under his left shoulder-blade, one horizontal over the middle of his spine (and that cut had hurt the most), and one just above the dip at the small of his back. The only visible sign of them is a muted, bleached-silver sheen obstructing otherwise unblemished skin.

Chrissie had found them once, while they were in bed together, her legs around his waist and her hands on his back. She’d traced them, asked curiously where they were from. He’d told her what he’d told any other partner that touched them while fucking: a stupid bicycle accident when he was eight. There’s even a silly, humorous, ‘boys-will-be-boys’ story to go with it that he’s memorised, that he has filed away ready to recite if necessary, involving makeshift ramps and rusty bike spokes, but rarely does anyone actually ask for it, already dismissing the scars, distracted by other parts of his body.

Aaron’s fingertips find them now, almost effortlessly, and it’s a surprise; Robert had expected to have to guide him. But he’s no stranger to scars and he traces each one, slowly, gently. The skin around the scar tissue is sensitive and even the feather-light touch has him twitching slightly, but he doesn’t pull away from the warmth of Aaron’s fingers as he explores each and every one, as if memorising the shape and feel of them.

“Andy’s the only other person who knows,” Robert says quietly. “Diane, Vic, they don’t know.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Aaron promises. His breath tickles Robert’s bare shoulder. “I didn’t…I didn’t think he was that kind of bloke.”

He huffs a short, bitter breath of laughter. “He wasn’t,” he replies. “He just – he didn’t want a son like me. I was a disappointment.”

“You’re not a disappointment.” Aaron’s voice is low but firm, vehement. “You’re amazing. And he was mad not to see that.”

Robert swallows. “Aaron.”

“I mean it. I love ya.” Aaron kisses his shoulder gently. “I love you. I never stopped loving you, you know.”

“I know.” Robert reaches behind him, catches Aaron’s hand in his own. He pulls it over him until they’re spooning, Aaron’s fingers splayed on Robert’s stomach. “I just want to be myself now. With you.”

Aaron’s lips brush the nape of his neck, affection aching in the gesture, and he strokes his thumb lightly just beneath Robert’s navel. They lie there like that for what could be hours, the only sound disturbing them the sigh of the wind outside and their own quiet, steady breathing. It’s getting colder as afternoon seeps towards evening, but the solid weight of Aaron’s body pressed against his own is enough to keep him warm.

He thinks Aaron might have fallen asleep, despite his complaints about rats, but then he speaks, voice muffled against Robert’s shoulder.

“Don’t suppose you have some wipes in your car? We’re disgusting.”

He laughs slightly. He’s right, they are, but he can’t find it in him to care right now. “Probably. But getting them entails moving, so, not interested.”

He feels Aaron’s mouth curve into a smile against his skin. He strokes his fingertips along Aaron’s hand, then further up, tracing the slight ridge of his veins, grazing over the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. He finds the scars, traces them the same way Aaron traced his, and closes his eyes, content.

“You know the beams?” Aaron murmurs. “We should keep ‘em. I mean, give them a lick of paint or polish or whatever to restore them, but. I like them. What do you think?” When Robert huffs a soft laugh, he asks, “What?”

“Nothing. Just…” He grins slightly. “It’s taken bloody weeks, but you and me have finally found something we agree on when it comes to this place.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a heavy chapter, so please heed the content warnings: explicit sexual content; discussion of Jack and him beating Robert, and his homophobia; mention of Gordon and reference to past child sexual abuse; Lachlan; fire; graphic description of fire and being inside a burning building; graphic description of injuries and blood; reference to past character death involving burning alive; life-threatening events.

“Oi. Andy’s down on one knee.”

Robert blinks at Aaron’s words, looking up from his phone. The rest of the punters in the pub have clustered in a bit of a crowd to watch the proposal, but he can still see Andy, down on one knee in front of Bernice, a small box in his hands. He flips it open and the delight on her face is radiant, tears quickly spilling down her cheeks.

She wipes them away delicately so she doesn’t smudge her makeup and nods, holding out her hand. Andy slides the ring onto her finger and stands, hugging her tight, and she laughs, loud and elated as she presses kisses to his face. A round of applause rings through the pub and Robert joins in.

“I’ve seen more romantic proposals,” he remarks when the place quietens down again. 

Aaron shakes his head. “Nah, it’s nice, innit?”

Robert glances over at him, smiling slightly. “I suppose,” he allows, but there’s no way he’ll ever propose to Aaron in the local pub. 

When he does propose, he’ll make sure its as romantic as Aaron deserves.

Aaron nudges him in the side. “Better go say congratulations.”

He nods and slides out of the booth, Aaron right behind him. They have to squeeze their way through the crowd of well-wishers to get to Andy and Bernice. Vic’s right next to them, looking just as surprised as Robert feels, but she’s clearly happy, a grin on her face as she admires the ring on Bernice’s finger. 

“Bit soon, isn’t it?” Robert says to Andy.

He shrugs, smiling. “Yeah, well. When you know, you know. She’s the one. I’ve spent a lot of my life dithering about, doing the wrong thing or waiting too long and losing my chance. Not anymore. I want to spend the rest of my life with Bernice.”

“Well, then.” Robert holds out his hands with a grin. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, mate.” Andy shakes his hand, then uses it to tug him into a quick half-hug, clapping him soundly on the shoulder before he pulls back again.

Robert hugs Bernice, too, kissing her on the cheek as he offers her his congratulations. He’s always liked Bernice and seeing her and Andy happy is good. It’s not something he ever expected, feeling this pleased on his brother’s behalf, but he is. He’s come so far since he left Emmerdale all those years ago. He never thought they could ever have this, that they could ever truly be a family again, but now that they are, he’s genuinely happy about it.

Turning to the bar, he catches Charity’s gaze and places his card on the bar. “Bottle of champagne for the couple,” he says. “And put a hundred quid behind the bar, yeah? Drinks are on me. It’s a celebration.”

Her eyebrows raise as she swipes the card to run it through the till. “Generous of ya. Where’s Robert Sugden and what have you done with him?”

He shrugs, grinning. “Guess I’ve been caught in a good mood,” he replies. 

She puts the bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, setting it down in front of Andy and Bernice with some flutes. Andy looks at Robert, surprised, and gives him a nod in thanks. Robert returns it, then glances at Aaron as he leans against the bar next to him.

“If drinks are on him,” he nods towards Robert with his chin. “I’ll have a round of shots, ta.”

“Now that’s a Dingle,” Charity says proudly. “Tequila or sambuca?”

He pulls a face. “Vodka. But I was joking. Just trying to wind him up.”

Robert smiles, leaning in to bump their shoulders together gently. “I’ll buy shots if you want shots. Just don’t expect me to clean up your puke later.”

“I never puke. Unlike some,” he gives Robert a pointed look, “I can actually hold my booze.”

Robert supposes he has a point. Aaron’s seen him in a sorry state a few times now, but he can’t think of even one time he’s ever seen Aaron drunk. He’s seen him a little merry, buzzed after knocking back a few with Adam, but never properly drunk. 

“Just a pint,” Aaron says to Charity. 

“Boring,” she accuses, but grabs a glass, pulling the pint. “I was gonna join you.”

“You’re supposed to be working,” Robert says.

“And who died and made you the boss?” she shoots back. “Besides, if I have to watch proposals while tragically single, I reckon I deserve tequila. I’m surrounded by loved up couples. It’s horrible.”

“You’re such a warm, fuzzy person,” Robert jokes. “Really. Why you’re still single, I have no idea.”

“Oh, please. Like you weren’t Mr Cynical while Aaron was giving you the cold shoulder.” 

He shrugs. “I won him over, though, didn’t I? My charm and good looks bagged him.”

“Nah,” Aaron says. “You wore me down until I finally gave in out of pity.” 

Robert reaches out to gently pinch his side and Aaron grins, pulling away. Charity shakes her head, smiling, and walks away to serve another punter. Robert catches Aaron by his hoodie, drawing him into a kiss. It’s slow and chaste, respecting Aaron’s hesitance when it comes to PDA, and it has warmth curling in Robert’s belly. Pulling away slightly, he opens his eyes, catching Aaron’s gaze.

“Upstairs,” he suggests, and Aaron grins.

“Rob,” Andy calls. “Aaron!”

He twists slightly to look over at his brother. Andy and Bernice have taken over the seats taking up one wall and they’ve pushed the two circular tables together. Vic and Adam are with them and Andy waves slightly, gesturing for Robert and Aaron to join them as well. 

Robert sighs, but Aaron nudges him in the side.

“Come on,” he says. “He’s your brother.”

“But -.”

“Later,” Aaron promises, kissing the corner of his mouth before he steps past him, leading the way over to the group.

They sit next to each other, having to press close to make room for Diane, Doug, Nicola and Jimmy when they join them, too. The heat of Aaron’s body is nice, a kind of solace as they drink champagne and celebrate, and he likes the closeness, the ability to just be here with Aaron, in full view of everyone, unashamed of who he is or who he loves. 

The pub is getting a little rowdy, but Charity just turns the music up, encouraging the party mood. Belle and Debbie are in the middle of the room, hands clasped with Sarah’s as they dance with her, smiles on their faces. Lawrence is at the bar, but he doesn’t look upset or bitter at Bernice moving on; in fact, he’s handing a thick roll of money to Chas, putting even more money behind the bar to fund the celebrations. It’s a gesture Robert wouldn’t have expected from him, but he supposes that Lawrence did care a lot for Bernice, in his own way. 

Across the pub, Chrissie’s sat at a table, tucked into Ross’s side, the two of them oblivious to the world as they canoodle. She takes a sip of her wine and leans her head on Ross’s shoulder. Robert’s a little surprised; he definitely hadn’t seen them getting together coming, he has to admit. He doesn’t know if it’s serious or not. Considering Ross’s record and Chrissie’s planned move abroad, it’s likely just a fling, but she looks happy, young and content, and it’s good to see her smile, good to see her move on. He finds he’s actually pleased for her, even if her taste in blokes does, apparently, leave a lot to be desired.

He takes a drink from his pint. Vic looks knackered after a long day in the kitchen, squished into Adam’s side, eyelids drooping slightly. When her head starts to sag, Adam gently adjusts her so she can use his shoulder as a pillow, curling his arm around her protectively. The love on his face as he looks at his wife is open and soft and Robert has to admit, whatever his opinion of Adam has been in the past, he can’t deny that Adam genuinely adores Vic. 

Bernice starts giggling, gazing at Andy like he hung the moon, and that fondness is shared in Andy’s smile as he leans in to kiss her. Robert thinks about that night at the quarry, thinks about the raw, empty grief on Andy’s face as he contemplated his own death. He’s relieved to see him this happy again, this content and complete, and he knows Bernice is good for him, knows that Andy will treat her right, too.

Aaron’s hand finds his thigh. He glances over at him, smiling slightly, and stretches his arm out along the back of the seats, fingertips lightly grazing Aaron’s shoulder. His smile widens when Aaron leans into the touch, seeking it out. 

“Alright?” Aaron checks. “You’re looking pretty sappy there. You ought to be careful. People might start thinking you actually have a heart.”

He grins. “I don’t,” he replies. “Not anymore. You stole it a long time ago.”

He groans, pulling a face. “Disgusting,” he accuses.

Robert just leans in, drifting his lips over the curve of Aaron’s jaw. He presses an affectionate kiss just underneath his ear before he sits back again, savouring the light, warm happiness that blossoms in his chest.

***

“Are you actually blushing?”

“Fuck off,” Aaron gripes. 

But he is; his cheeks are ruddy with embarrassment and he looks pained, horror on his face even though the door is firmly shut again and Charity is long gone. But her hurried, half-amused half-mortified apologies seem to linger in the bathroom, staining the hot steam and damp tiles. 

Robert’s knees are starting to ache. He still has one hand on the base of Aaron’s cock, still has the taste of him on his tongue, and he wants to finish what he started, wants to get Aaron off, but he thinks Aaron’s probably not in the mood anymore.

Still, just in case, he asks, “Want me to finish?”

“What? No.” Aaron pulls back. He sighs as he shuts off the shower. “I miss the barn.”

Work started on the barn just a week ago. After spending so long sorting out the designs and trying to agree or compromise on everything, securing the building company and an overseeing architect had been more than worthy of celebrating at the Woolpack. But now, just a week in, Robert has to admit that he’s missing their place, too. Having somewhere they could go to be just them is something he doubts he’ll ever take for granted, not after living in the pub.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “The sooner the work is done, the sooner we’ll have our own place permanently. No more living here. No more getting caught by Charity. You’d think she’d have learned to knock by now.”

Aaron gives an incoherent grumble, a scowl on his face. Robert gets it; he’s feeling the frustration, too. It’s the second week of September, so school has started up again, which means Noah is pretty much _always_ home in the evenings to do homework, so having sex, even in Aaron’s bedroom, has been firmly out of the question. Between their jobs and Charity, they haven’t had much luck trying to get even a quickie in during the day, either. 

“Hey,” Robert murmurs, cupping Aaron’s face to kiss him. “We could always swing by that lay-by. Or the hut at the pavilion. Or -.”

“Or neither, ‘cause I’ve got to get back to work,” Aaron replies. 

“I could come with you.”

“Adam’s working today.”

“Fuck.” Sighing, Robert kisses him again. “I love you.”

“Love ya too,” he replies, kissing him one last time before he pulls away to dry off and get dressed. 

Robert pulls his own clothes on, following Aaron out. He watches as he grabs his hi-vis vest, phone and keys. He turns to press one last kiss to Robert’s mouth before he heads out. Sighing, Robert drops down onto the couch, looking at the admin scattered across the coffee table. He’d been working on it when Aaron suddenly appeared, utilising his brief lunch break for a shower and a blowjob while they, supposedly, had the place to themselves.

Charity ducks her head around the door. “Sorry,” she says. “I interrupted ya, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she pauses, then shrugs. “Oh, get over it. How’d you think I feel? I haven’t had sex in months. There are cobwebs down there, you know.”

Robert stares at her, horrified. “Unless you’re willing to pay for my therapy, do me a favour and don’t talk to me about your sex life. Ever.”

She rolls her eyes and steps into the kitchen to make herself a brew. She grabs his ‘prat’ mug, lifting it up in a silent question, but Robert shakes his head and leans forward, collecting his laptop from the table. He opens it and clicks open a fresh Google search.

It doesn’t take long to find the perfect hotel. Fancy, but not so posh that Aaron will get hives, with a decent telly and a giant bathtub. It’s close enough to Leeds city centre that they can go to a pub or out for a meal if they want to, but Robert isn’t really planning on leaving the huge king size bed much at all. 

He books it for the weekend, smiling slightly as he checks his confirmation email. It’s pricey, but for two whole days and nights with Aaron with absolutely no interruptions, it’s more than worth it.

***

Aaron clocks the look on Robert’s face the second he walks into the pub. 

Adam’s with him, but he splits off after a friendly tap on Aaron’s shoulder to find Vic. Aaron makes his way to the bar and his hand finds Robert’s side, squeezing gently as he leans in for a quick kiss.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says. “And then you can tell me what’s got you looking all smug, yeah?”

“I could join you,” Robert suggests, kissing him again.

“Charity and Noah are home,” he replies. 

He pats Robert’s side before he draws back again, ducking behind the bar and through to the back. Robert watches him go, smiling a little. He drains the rest of his Coke and glances to his right as Andy joins him.

“Alright?” he greets.

Robert nods. “You?”

“Good, yeah,” Andy replies. “How’s the barn coming along?”

“They’ve finished connecting to the sewage system. They’re working on sorting out the water and electric this week.”

“And the farm?”

Robert shrugs. “I haven’t touched it, to be honest. The bloke who flipped it had a load of work done, so there isn’t anything that needs doing. But I want to wait until the bulk of the work on the barn is done before I rent the farm out.”

“I’d be interested, you know,” Andy offers quietly. “In renting it, I mean.”

He looks over, surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Working up at Butlers, I love it, but Melby…it was our farm, you know? Our home. Getting it up and running again, following…” He stops, clears his throat. “It would just be nice to feel that connection, is all.”

“But the cost,” Robert points out carefully. “Of getting everything you need, hiring workers, all that. Getting it going, I mean, it’ll cost a fortune.”

“I know,” Andy replies, nodding. “But me and Bernice have talked about it. I’ve got some savings. She’s got her settlement from Lawrence. We want to make a go of it. Have our own farm. She’ll still have her salon pulling in a profit, but we’ll have a proper house. Gabby will live with us, there’ll be room for Sarah and Jack to come and stay.”

Robert hesitates. He’s more than a little caught off guard, surprised that Andy is okay with even the idea of renting from Robert. He’s grateful for it, for what it shows; the gesture tells him what Andy can’t say in words, just like the cufflinks and tie pin. 

“Look,” he says. “I just…I wouldn’t be able to rent it out for anything less than what it’s worth. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t ask you to, Rob. I’ll pay the full rent.” Andy shrugs and claps him briefly on the shoulder. “Just think about it, yeah?”

He nods and Andy smiles, small and grateful. After he’s ordered another pint, he heads back to his table, sitting next to Bernice. Robert leans his arms on the bar, reeling slightly from Andy’s suggestion. 

Aaron appears not long after, hair slightly damp. He’s wearing his green jumper, the one that always looks fit on him, and he joins Robert at the bar. Before he can flag down Charity for a drink, Robert taps his side gently, waiting for Aaron to look at him before he nods his chin towards the doors leading through to the bathrooms. 

His brow furrows slightly but he follows without comment. The second the doors close behind them, Robert reaches for him, cornering him against the wall as he kisses him. Aaron’s hands come up instantly, gripping Robert’s shoulders as he kisses him back just as hard, just as deeply, and a soft moan hums in Robert’s throat as he presses closer, fingers twisting in the material of Aaron’s jumper.

“Have I told you,” he murmurs, nipping slightly at Aaron’s lip. “How good you look in this?”

Aaron just grins and cups the back of Robert’s neck, kissing him again. Desire, sticky sweet and hot, slides through Robert, crackling in his belly as he fumbles at Aaron’s belt, making quick work of unbuckling it.

“Hang on,” Aaron says breathlessly. “Not here. Anyone could walk in.”

Robert kisses him again, then trails a path of them down Aaron’s jaw and neck, focusing on his throat as he moves them further down the wall. He walks Aaron backwards until the weight of their bodies pushes open the door to the men’s bathroom and they stumble inside. 

It is, thankfully, empty, and Robert scrapes his teeth over the tendon in Aaron’s neck as Aaron’s back hits the tiled wall. He tips his head back, a breathless sound of encouragement catching in his throat, the leather of Robert’s jacket creaking under Aaron’s hands as he pulls Robert even closer against him, drawing his mouth back to his own. They kiss, hard and desperate, as they fumble their way into one of the cubicles, slamming and locking the door behind them.

“This,” Aaron manages as Robert unzips his jeans, tugging the flap open, “Really isn’t romantic.”

Robert grins. “You want romance?” he murmurs, pausing to pull sharply on Aaron’s lip with his teeth, eliciting a soft grunt. “I’ll spread rose petals round the loos next time, yeah?” 

He laughs. “Prat,” he accuses. 

He kisses Aaron as he gets a hand inside his boxers. He’s already hard and leaking, hot in Robert’s hand, and he strokes him quickly, not wasting any time with teasing. Aaron’s head falls back, hitting the cubicle wall with a bang, and Robert lifts his free hand to cup the back of Aaron’s skull so he doesn’t wind up hurting himself. He kisses him as he strokes him off, tasting the breathless sounds that spill off Aaron’s tongue as he rocks slightly into Robert’s grip.

“I got us a hotel room,” Robert murmurs. “This weekend. Two days, two nights. Just you and me. _No_ interruptions.”

“Fuck,” Aaron mutters. “I love you.”

He grins, twisting his wrist slightly on the upstroke, and Aaron’s fingers bite into his shoulders as he shudders. He comes with a quiet grunt, spilling over Robert’s fingers, and he uses the added wetness to stroke him a few more times, until Aaron twitches and gasps, pushing him away. 

Withdrawing his hand, Robert grabs some loo roll to clean up his fingers. Aaron’s hand slides down Robert’s stomach, fingers catching on the button of his jeans, and the heat in his belly tightens in response, anticipation sliding like a tongue down his spine. But the rattle of the door to the bathroom opening makes them both pause, staring at each other in silence.

The sound of someone pissing fills the room and they both pull a face, frustrated and a little disgusted. It seems like forever before the bloke leaves again, the door clattering shut behind him. Robert ducks in, brushing one last kiss to Aaron’s mouth.

“I swear,” Aaron says, sighing slightly. “We’re cursed.”

He smiles. “This weekend,” he reminds him. “Nothing to get in the way of us spending two days in bed together. We can make up for all the times we’ve been interrupted, yeah?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Grinning, Robert rearranges his clothing and steps out of the cubicle. He washes his hands quickly and leaves the bathroom, knowing that Aaron will wait for a few minutes before following so it looks a little less suspicious. 

Pushing open the door to the main pub, he steps inside, relieved when no one bothers to even glance in his direction. He’s a little uncomfortable, frustrated at being interrupted before he could get off as well, but there’s a lingering thrill in his gut from giving Aaron a handjob in the loos that makes up for his own case of blue balls.

He starts towards the bar, but then pauses, attention snagged by the wall of photos. There’s something different. Something is missing. Walking closer, he realises belatedly that the blank space in the middle of the cluster of photographs is the spot where his father’s picture used to be, the one of him on the farm, flat cap on as he grinned cheerfully at the camera. He casts a look at the others, but they’re all right where they’re supposed to be. The only one missing is his dad’s.

“I got rid of it.”

Aaron’s voice is quiet, coming from just a couple of steps behind him. Robert glances over his shoulder and Aaron holds his gaze, expression unapologetic. There’s a gentle kind of understanding in his eyes that makes Robert’s heart ache.

Swallowing, he says, “I didn’t mind. It was for Diane, and Andy and Vic.” 

Aaron shrugs slightly. “That doesn’t mean you should have to suffer for them,” he replies. “I know how I’d feel if I had to see a picture of Gordon up on that wall every time I came in here.”

Robert straightens slightly, a little horrified at the comparison. He’d seen first hand just how much badly Gordon broke Aaron, witnessed for himself just how torn up Aaron was, how he couldn’t cope. It feels wrong to put a beating and years of what Gordon did in the same sentence.

“That’s different,” he says. “What Gordon did -.”

“Your dad hurt you,” Aaron cuts him off, tone low but vehement. “He beat ya, Robert. I don’t care if it was only once. There’s no ‘only’ about it, Rob. He _beat_ you. He left you with scars. He hated you for what you are and made you feel so ashamed that you buried that part of yourself for years. He doesn’t deserve to have his photo up there. He doesn’t deserve to be bloody glorified by the whole village.”

For a second, Robert can’t say anything, can barely even breathe. He just stares at Aaron, completely shaken by his words, by his earnest insistence on this. Being this cared for, this _protected_, will never not make him feel rocked to the core, especially when it’s Aaron who cares for him this deeply and openly.

“What will Diane say?” he points out. “Or Vic?”

“It ain’t Diane’s pub anymore,” Aaron replies evenly. “If she says anything, I’ll tell her we’re putting something else up instead. And I asked Vic about it. I didn’t tell her about what he did, don’t worry. She was alright with it, especially when I gave her the picture of Jack.”

Robert turns to face him properly. Aaron’s expression is calm, but Robert knows he means what he says. He’ll plant himself like a fucking tree between Robert and anyone who has anything to say about Jack’s photo being taken down. Robert doesn’t reckon anyone’s chances, not when Aaron is this determined about it.

“How did you know?” he asks. “About how seeing it made me feel?”

“I told ya. I couldn’t stand it if it was Gordon. At least my demon is gone, for the most part. You don’t deserve yours hanging around, being treated like a fucking saint by the village in his death when he treated his own son like dirt when he were alive.” Aaron holds his gaze, voice steady. “Besides, I know ya. I saw it in your face.”

Robert crosses the small space between them, cupping Aaron’s neck as he pulls him into a brief, slow kiss. When they part, he presses their foreheads together gently, wishing he had the words to explain how he feels, to explain how much this means to him. But Aaron just smiles, fingers curling around Robert’s wrist, anchoring him. 

“I know,” he says simply, and Robert smiles back.

***

The week seems to drag by, stretched out by anticipation and impatience. But Friday finally does roll around and Robert wakes in a good mood, ignoring Aaron’s grumpy scowl as he buries back under the duvet.

“Too early,” he mumbles.

“It’s eight,” Robert points out. 

“And I don’t have to be at the yard until quarter to nine,” he replies. “That’s at least twenty more minutes of sleep.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us can just roll out of bed and look good,” Robert says. “I’ve got a client this morning. And we need to pack.”

“Pack what?” Aaron gripes. “Condoms, lube, some spare clothes. Sorted.”

Grinning, Robert climbs onto the bed, crawling over to Aaron. He tugs the duvet down to expose Aaron’s sleep-ruffled, sullen face and leans in, kissing him. 

“Come on,” he says. “You could be a bit more enthusiastic about a weekend away with me.”

“I am,” Aaron replies, fisting a hand in Robert’s shirt to pull him into another kiss. “I’ve missed ya.”

“I know. Me too.” Robert kisses the corner of Aaron’s mouth before sitting back again. “I’ll be done before noon.”

He nods. “I told Adam I’m finishing at midday. I thought I’d come back here to shower and we could grab some lunch before we go to the hotel.”

“Perfect.” Robert tucks the duvet back up, covering Aaron’s face. “Sweet dreams.”

He can’t quite make out Aaron’s muffled response, but he’s willing to bet that it’s limited to two short words. Smiling, he climbs back off the bed and finishes getting dressed. By the time he leaves the bedroom, Aaron’s already snoring again, and he can’t help but feel fond.

His clients are a wife and husband team who joint-own and manage their small cleaning business, with a staff of six. Looking to branch out into other locations outside of Skipdale, the wife, Marion, had made the decision to seek out Robert’s consulting services. Her husband, Tony, is visibly less enthusiastic about the idea.

The meeting isn’t the most pleasant Robert’s ever had. Tony is a smug, know-it-all prick, clearly unwilling to take on Robert’s advice and suggestions, and the couple end up bickering about it in low tones that still carry in the small meeting room they’d hired for the morning.

What’s supposed to be a two hour meeting stretches into three and a half, and none of them are enjoyable. They don’t make much progress, either, and Robert’s willing to bet that he’ll get a call later after Tony mithers his wife into deciding against using a consultant after all. He’s not bothered, not really, but it’s a waste of his time and it’s frustrating.

He gets back to Emmerdale later than he’d intended and jogs straight upstairs to the bedroom. Aaron’s already back and freshly showered and dressed. He’s sat on the end of the bed, gaze on his phone, but he glances up and smiles when Robert walks in.

“Sorry I’m late,” Robert says. “Nightmare client. But we’ve still got time for lunch, yeah?”

Aaron winces slightly, apologetic. “Actually, I’m just about to head up to Home Farm.”

He frowns. “What for?”

“Chrissie text me. Her car won’t start, so I’m gonna go take a look. Won’t take long.”

“Can’t she get someone else to do it?”

“Debbie’s got that thing with Sarah all day and Cain is…well, Cain.” Aaron shrugs. “She has a meeting, so she needs it sorting quick. I don’t mind.”

Sighing, Robert reaches out, drawing him into a kiss. “Let me know when you’re done, yeah?”

“Yeah. I reckon I know what the problem is from what she described, so it shouldn’t take longer than about half an hour. We won’t miss our check-in, don’t worry. I’ll see you later.”

Robert nods, kissing him again. “Love you.”

“I know.” With a cheeky grin and a wink, he steps past Robert, heading out.

He supposes he should be glad they can be civil enough with Chrissie to do favours without it being weird or awkward. Being at odds with her is a hassle neither he or Aaron needs and it says a lot about Aaron that he’s happy to go and lend a hand, despite their rough history. But he can’t deny he’s a little frustrated; after a shitty morning, he’d been looking forward to just focusing on Aaron for a bit.

But they have a whole weekend ahead of them to dedicate to each other and the knowledge that, in just a few hours, he’ll be rolling around on a king size bed with Aaron, with a guarantee of absolutely no interruptions, is definitely a consolation. 

His weekend bag is already on the bed; Aaron’s shoved his things in there ready. Robert packs his own stuff in and zips it up, then makes his way down the stairs. The back room is empty, so he sorts himself a quick lunch – a sandwich, crisps and a cuppa, a bit miserable considering the proper restaurant lunch he’d planned to take Aaron on before the drive to the hotel – and eats it in front of the telly.

Half an hour passes and his phone stays silent. He washes up from his lunch and dries his hands before checking his notifications, but they’re empty. Sending a quick text to check in with Aaron, he grabs their weekend bag and heads through to the pub.

“Oh, aye,” Chas says. “All ready, then? Got everything you need?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Except my boyfriend.”

“He won’t be long, I’m sure. Want a pint while you wait?”

He shakes his head. “I’m doing the driving, so just a Coke. Cheers.”

She sorts his drink and he hands her a couple of coins to cover the cost. Carrying the bag and his drink over to the table closest to the doors, he sits down and takes a sip of Coke before he checks his phone again. Still nothing.

Frowning, he leans back, trying not to get impatient. He can always call the hotel and inform them that they’ll be late for their check-in time. They’ve got the whole weekend ahead of them; a little bit of lateness isn’t going to ruin the whole thing. But there’s this feeling in his gut, buzzing at the base of his skull, and he can’t quite put his finger on _why_ he feels unsettled. It’s not exactly unusual for Aaron to take forever to reply to messages, especially when he’s working on a car. 

But they’ve been so happy recently. All of them have. For once, everything has been going well, and he doesn’t trust it. Doubt creeps down his spine, slithers into his belly, and he knows he’s just being paranoid, but he can’t help it. Aaron’s silence is disconcerting.

Finally, his phone chimes and he snatches it up off the table. It’s a text from Aaron and there’s a photo attachment. Confused, he unlocks his mobile and swipes to pull up the text. There’s no actual message, just the picture, which he has to tap on with his thumb to see properly.

The second it loads and fills the screen, horror chokes him.

It’s Aaron.

It’s Aaron, sprawled out on the floor, unconscious and pale. Blood covers one half of his face, seeping from a wound on his head. There’s so much of it, and Robert knows that head wounds bleed a lot, knows that just because Aaron _looks_ half-dead doesn’t mean he actually _is_, but that doesn’t stop the terror and grief that splinters in his ribcage, stealing the breath from his lungs.

His chair scrapes back as he gets to his feet and then tips over, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Robert stumbles, phone tight in his grip, and Cain’s on his feet the second he sees the alarm on Robert’s face, marching across the pub.

“What?” he demands. “What’s going on?”

“Aaron,” is all Robert can manage. “We need to go.”

Cain doesn’t press for more information, just springs straight into action, shoving Robert towards the doors. They spill out of the pub and sprint to Robert’s car, which is closest. Digging the keys out of his pocket, he fumbles to unlock the doors, and takes a breath as he climbs in, trying to focus, trying to force his way past the gut-wrenching, heart-breaking fear he feels to reach the needed cold snap of adrenaline. 

Neither of them bother with their seatbelts and Robert tosses his phone at Cain as he pulls out onto the road, ignoring the honk of an angry taxi driver when he cuts him off. Cain looks at the mobile, at the picture still on the screen, and a vicious curse bites between his teeth. Robert glances over, watches the way his face settles into cold, hard lines, and he imagines it mirrors his own expression. He has no doubt that Lachlan is behind this.

He doesn’t give a damn about the speed limit as they take the country roads and they ricochet slightly in their seats around each sharp turn, but Cain suddenly bellows: 

“Put your foot down, will ya?!”

He throws him a look, but the sudden ghost of panic on Cain’s face stops him from snapping back. “What?” 

“Look,” Cain barks out.

Robert turns his gaze back to the road and he instantly sees what Cain’s talking about. There’s smoke in the distance, thick, hazy grey curling into the sky, fracturing the crisp blue sky. He feels renewed, awful horror sink cruel teeth into him.

Because the smoke’s coming from Home Farm.

He pushes the car even faster, until the roar of the engine and his own frantic breathing is all he can hear. It’s only minutes, but feels like forever, before they skid onto the long drive winding up to Home Farm. As they get closer, they can see the smoke more clearly, pouring out of the house; they can see the hazy, searing flicker of the fire consuming the ground floor. A few people are already outside, spread out on the ground, away from the smoke and blaze. 

Robert hits the brakes and yanks harshly on the wheel so they stop a safe distance away from the house, parallel to it without hitting anyone. He’s out of the door a second later, gravel crunching and spitting under his shoes. He looks around frantically, but his search confirms what the raw panic in his heart had already been telling him: Aaron isn’t one of the people scattered on the drive.

Andy _is_, however. Robert has no idea why he and Bernice are here, is confused by the faces he sees, but Andy catches his gaze. He’s crouched next to Bernice; her hair is a mess, makeup streaking down her face, and she’s shaking slightly from the shock. There’s blood trickling from Andy’s nose, bruising on his cheek, but his straightens to his feet when he sees Robert.

“Aaron,” Robert gasps out.

“He’s still in there,” Andy barks out, adrenaline and fear stark on his face as he snaps back into action. 

Despite already suspecting it, the confirmation has Robert’s heart freezing in his chest before it starts to thunder, throbbing with panic. He and Andy start sprinting back towards the house, Cain matching their pace, and, somewhere, somehow, Adam joins them, right on their heels, and Robert doesn’t understand how he’s here too, but the confusion is distant, out of reach. All he can focus on is Aaron.

Smoke spews from the front door and a couple of shattered windows, spilling thick and cloying into the cool September air. It seems to stick in Robert’s lungs, choking him, and he knows the smell of burning flesh is just his imagination, but the smoke and fire _isn’t_, and for a second, it’s almost too much. He can’t. Not again.

But Aaron’s in there. He’s _in there_ and Robert can’t lose him. Not like this. He can’t lose someone else he loves to a fire. If Aaron dies, alone, suffocating or burning to death, Robert couldn’t cope. He can’t lose Aaron, not ever, and the desperation is enough to propel him forwards, even as part of him shies away from the house and fire, tangled up in thoughts of his mum, in memories that aren’t real but _feel_ like they are.

The second they get close to the front door, the blast of heat is enough to nearly knock them on their arses. Andy’s knees hit the gravel and he starts coughing, lungs already raw and protesting, and Cain shoves him to the side, away from the smoke.

“We’ve got this,” he shouts.

Andy hesitates, gaze snapping to Robert’s face, and he wants to help, clearly sees the terror on Robert’s face, but Cain’s right. So Robert nods once and Andy staggers away. Robert’s vaguely aware of people shouting at them, trying to stop them from going in, and he registers Vic’s shrill, broken yell amongst the confusion, but the three of them ignore it, charging into the house. 

The heat is like nothing he’s felt before, not this close up. It’s ruthless and unrelenting, smothering in its intensity. The downstairs of the house is full of smoke, thick and suffocating; Robert can’t see, can hardly breathe. The roar and crackle of the fire is louder than a freight train and even the smoke is burning hot, making his lungs hurt. He drops down onto all fours so he’s closer to the ground where there’s less smoke and more air, and Cain and Adam follow his lead as they force their way deeper into the house.

“Where -?” Adam tries, but his question is lost to a brittle, hacking cough.

Robert’s eyes are stinging. His lungs burn. Sweat pours off him and he feels dizzy, smothered by the heat and the blanket of smoke roiling above them. Every part of him wants to get out, wants to get back into cold, clean, fresh air. 

It’s hard not to think about the barn. To think about his mum. The memory of the burnt out barn claws at him and he can’t help but realise that this is what she would have felt, that this is what she would have experienced when she died. This is what killed her. She burned to death, choking on smoke, and now Aaron might too. 

Robert can’t turn back. He can’t lose Aaron too. He’ll die trying to save him before he ever lets Aaron die alone. 

He tries to focus, tries to conjure up the photo he’d been sent. Aaron had been sprawled on the floor, but _where_? If it’s upstairs, they’re fucked. They can’t risk trying to go up. They have no idea if the fire is above them now. They have to stay low, no matter what. 

“Over here!” Cain’s voice cracks, wrecked from the smoke, and the roar of the nearby flames nearly drowns out his shout, but Robert catches it.

His hands fumble at the bottom of a railing – _the stairs_, he thinks – and he crawls forward, brushing against an archway, headed in the right direction. The kitchen. That’s where Aaron had been in the photo, pale and still against the tiles, and it’s where he is now, with Cain crouched next to him.

The smoke here is thick and heavy, blanketing everything and cloying in Robert’s lungs. Flames crackle, too close, the heat scorching; one leg of Aaron’s jeans has lit up and Cain is using his own jacket to put it out, movements frantic.

“The door?” Robert chokes out.

“Locked,” Adam pants out as he joins them, cradling his hand; his palm is burned, presumably from trying the door handle.

He wonders if they could try and smash it open, but they haven’t got the time or traction they need. They’d likely suffocate before they managed to bust even one of the hinges. Their best chance is to drag Aaron back out the way they came. 

Aaron’s still unconscious. There’s so much blood. Robert can barely see, but he can make it out, can feel it, hot and wet, against his hands when he cradles Aaron’s face. It pools on the floor under Aaron’s head and more coats the side of his face, staining his clothes. There’s too much of it to tell where the wound is. But his eyes are shut and his face is pale, and he looks…he looks -.

“Help me!” Cain snaps, shattering Robert back into adrenaline-sharpened focus.

Robert and Adam scoot until they can get a good grip on Aaron. The heat is unbearable and Robert feels like he can’t breathe, each desperate inhale searing in his lungs. It’s too much, it’s all too much, but he keeps a tight grip on Aaron and he keeps going, focusing only on getting Aaron out, shoving everything else to the back of his mind. The only thing that matters is the heat of Aaron’s skin under his fingers, the weight of his body as the three of them manage to drag him back through the house and out of the front door.

Gravel digs into Robert’s knees through his jeans and the first inhale of clean, fresh air hurts. His head spins, dizziness cloaking him for a second, but he keeps breathing and keeps moving, until they’re all well enough away from the house and the smoke. Then they all stagger and sag, gasping and exhausted. 

Adam keels over, choking and spitting, worse than Robert or Cain, and it belatedly occurs to Robert that he hadn’t just gone into the fire to save Aaron; he’d gone _back_ into it.

Vic sprints over, sobbing out Adam’s name, and he holds onto her weakly as she hugs him but his gaze is on Aaron. Robert’s coughing, eyes raw, lungs feeling blistered, but he doesn’t hesitate. He cups Aaron’s face, trembling fingers cradling his head carefully. His skin is almost scalding to the touch, but he can’t tell if that’s from the fire or his own body heat. 

“Aaron,” he croaks. “Look at me. Wake up! Aaron, _please_.”

“Is he breathing?” Cain demands. “Robert, is he _breathing_?”

Robert places frantic, shaking fingers against Aaron’s neck. If there’s a pulse, it’s too weak to feel it, and sick, anguished terror flays him open. He yanks off his jacket to free up his arms and starts compressions, ignoring the tears that stream from stinging eyes, scraping down his sweaty, heat-sore cheeks.

“Come on,” Adam pleads, voice hoarse and scratchy. “Come on, lad. Breathe. Just breathe.”

“Oh god,” Vic whispers. Her hand finds Aaron’s wrist, holding on, squeezing hard in desperation. “Aaron.”

Robert’s only vaguely aware of them all. Andy’s there, too, trying to help, and there are sirens screaming in the distance, and Cain’s talking, low and urgent, but it all washes right over Robert. He keeps his gaze fixed on the prone body under his hands, keeps a litany of prayers running through his head as he keeps going.

Bending down, he ignores the abrasive ache in his own lungs as he presses his mouth to Aaron’s, breathing air, breathing life, into him. He does it once, twice, three times before he goes back to pumping at his chest. 

“Please,” he begs. “Please, just, just _breathe_. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. Aaron, please. _Please_.”

He repeats Aaron’s name over and over, begs and pleads despite the burn in his throat, a soundtrack to his desperate movements as he keeps up compressions, pausing only to pour air from his own lungs into Aaron’s. His mouth is unresponsive under his, body still and silent, and Robert won’t let this frantic seal of their lips be their last kiss, won’t let this be the moment he loses Aaron for good. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, trying to pull him away, and he almost lashes out. But then Cain shoves at him, hauling him away, and Robert suddenly notices the blinding flash of sirens, the wailing of sirens cutting through the hazy panic. The paramedics push past him and surround Aaron, and Robert reluctantly shuffles completely aside to give them room. 

He realises he’s shaking. His knees are weak, body threatening to splinter apart, and Andy finds him, gets a careful grip on him to keep him upright. The grief Robert feels is overwhelming. He’s never felt anything like it. Not even after the barn, not after Jack’s funeral, not when he lost everything he’d worked for since leaving. This is cruel and all-consuming. 

“He’ll be okay,” Andy says. “He’s strong. You got him out. He’ll pull through, Rob.”

Hands frame his face. “Come on,” Vic encourages. “You need looking over. You all do.”

Robert shakes his head. He wants to be with Aaron. He can’t leave him, not for a second; not when he doesn’t know if Aaron survive or not. But Vic’s crying, pale and shaken, and she needs him to be okay as much as she needs Adam, Andy and Aaron to be, so he allows her to coax him over to one of the ambulances. A paramedic instantly sits him down and starts to check him over, fixing a mask over his face.

The pure, clean oxygen that flows into his lungs is an uncomfortable relief. He breathes slow and deep, letting it clear the thick, filthy taste of smoke from his throat, trying to chase away the dizziness he feels. Two fire engines skid onto the gravel, closely followed by more ambulances, and Robert looks out over the chaos scattered over the drive like a Renaissance painting, backdropped by the burning, crumbling house.

Firefighters from the first truck that arrived are trying to put the fire out, keeping everyone well back from the house as they tackle the blaze. The coppers have arrived, too, but there’s not much they can do now except to help keep people back and block nosy villagers from trying to come up to have a look at the destruction. Andy’s in the back of another ambulance with Bernice; his nose has been cleaned up and they’ve both been given masks, and a burn on Bernice’s arm is being carefully assessed by a paramedic. Adam, Vic and Cain are sat in the smaller ambulance car, breathing in oxygen. 

Robert frowns when he sees Belle being helped towards an ambulance. She’s pale and shaking, face smeared with tears and smoke, one arm cradled carefully. His confusion intensifies when a stretcher goes past. It’s Ross, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound, and one of the paramedics is keeping pressure on his leg to stem even more blood as he’s loaded into the back of an ambulance. It screeches off a second later, sirens blaring.

He has no idea why they’re all here, but it niggles at him. He thinks about Andy and Vic, how Robert’s been getting on with Andy lately, how Vic means the world to him. He thinks about the fact that Ross has clearly been shagging Chrissie for the last couple of weeks, and about the text Aaron got asking him to come to the house to look at a car. It’s no accident that all of these people are here. 

Robert’s gaze finds and locks on Lachlan’s.

He’s sat in the back of an ambulance. Chrissie’s with him, a mask on her face, and Lawrence lingers, completely unharmed, next to the vehicle, a frown creasing his expression. Lachlan looks unscathed except for an ugly, swelling bit of bruising near his hairline and the oxygen mask he’s clutching to his face as he breathes from it. He holds Robert’s gaze and the gleam in his eyes is cold and vindictive.

A triumphant smirk twists his mouth up behind his mask.

_I’m going to make sure you lose all of it. I’m going to make you pay_.

And Robert had let it go, so sure that, despite his threats, Lachlan would be gone soon, dragged to Australia by Chrissie and Lawrence. He should have known that Lachlan was plotting, should have been suspicious by Aaron’s text from ‘Chrissie’, should have seen this coming. He doesn’t know how Belle, Adam or Bernice came into it, whether they were just accidents, but the rest is obvious. Lachlan had clearly put it all together carefully, getting them all exactly where he wanted them so he could enact his revenge. 

All to get to Robert, to get revenge, to make Chrissie pay for what she did to his dad. 

Robert’s on his feet before he thinks about it, ripping the mask away from his face. He’s so furious it almost scares him. He realises he could do real damage. He could beat Lachlan until he’s nothing but blood, bone and gore on the ground. He could tear the world apart, raze everything to the ground, if only to make Lachlan pay for this.

He makes it halfway before strong hands grab his shoulders. 

“Oi,” Cain warns. “Don’t.”

“He did this,” Robert spits. “Aaron might _die_ because of him.”

“Yeah. And he’ll get what’s coming to him.” Cain shoves him back slightly. “But you getting yourself banged up won’t help Aaron, will it? He needs ya, Sugden. Don’t lose it.”  
Part of him wants to laugh at the irony of Cain trying to calm him down, advising him against doing something that might land him in prison. But, mostly, he just wants to break apart, unable to cope with how he feels, torn apart by anger and grief and fear. 

He looks over Cain’s shoulder. Chrissie catches his eye. She looks stricken, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she crumples when he looks at her. Two coppers are with them. Robert watches, a wisp of satisfaction cooling his anger, as one of the officers places a handcuff on Lachlan’s wrist, securing him to the gurney in the ambulance. 

It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. Lachlan deserves hell for this. But it’s a start, and Cain’s right. Aaron needs to be Robert’s focus, not Lachlan.

He lets Cain guide him back to the paramedic that’s looking pretty frustrated, but he presses the mask back to Robert’s face without comment and he accepts it. The oxygen is a sweet relief, even as his lungs ache, hot and raw. His eyes are stinging and he wants to lie down, adrenaline seeping out of him only to be replaced with grief and exhaustion.

He watches as Aaron is loaded onto a stretcher. He can’t see what’s going on and he looks up at Cain, who sighs, a pinched expression on his face.

“You go with him,” he says. “I’ll get Chas.”

Robert nods, grateful, and hands his oxygen mask back to the paramedic. Aaron’s loaded into the back of an ambulance and Robert makes to follow, but one of them stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I’m his boyfriend,” he rasps. “Please.”

She steps back and he clambers on, sinking into the seat next to the stretcher. Aaron’s neck and head are braced to keep him completely still and Robert should have thought about that, should have wondered about damage from whatever blow knocked him out. But he had to move him, despite the risk; the alternative was leaving him to die. 

He’s still unconscious, but he’s breathing, and that alone is all Robert needs right now, the knowledge that Aaron is still alive, even if he’s hanging on by a fragile thread.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another heavy chapter, so content warnings for: character death (one that does happen in canon; see end notes if you'd like to know before reading); hospitals; smoke inhalation and aftermath of a fire; description of fire and a burning house; description of injuries and treatment; description of a medical procedure; heavy angst; whump; mention of burns; Lachlan; discussion of guns, hostage situations, violence, gasoline and a character having their arm broken; mention of blood; life-threatening injuries; near-death experiences; discussion of past suicide attempt.

He ends up sat on a hospital bed.

They’d whisked Aaron away the second the paramedics had wheeled him into the emergency department, taken him off somewhere Robert couldn’t follow, and he’d stood, lost and alone, in the middle of a bustling A&E hallway, until a doctor had gently guided him to an assessment cubicle. 

“Do you know how long you were exposed to the smoke for?” she asks. 

Robert shakes his head slightly. “I don’t – no.” It had felt like hours they were in that house, suffocating under the thick blanket of smoke, but he knows it could only have been minutes. “Not long.”

She nods and slips a pen light free from her pocket, checking his eyes with quick, efficient ease. “Any headache?” 

“No.” His voice crackles, hoarse like he’s chain-smoked every single day since birth. “I felt dizzy earlier, but. Not now.”

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

“No,” he repeats. “Really, I’m fine. My boyfriend, is he…is he okay? Please, I need to see him.”

“We need to get you checked over,” she says gently. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Robert Sugden.”

“Birthdate?” 

“22nd of April, 1986,” he rattles off automatically.

She nods, jotting his answers down. “And what’s today’s date, Mr Sugden?”

“18th September,” he replies. “Look, Dr -?”

“Armstrong.”

“Dr Armstrong,” he says. “I’m _fine_. I just need to know if my boyfriend is okay. Aaron Dingle.” 

“I’ll see if there’s any news,” she reassures him. “But I need you to stay put, Mr Sugden. I’ve had a listen to your lungs and I’m not too concerned, but I’m going to arrange a chest x-ray just to be certain. Meanwhile, I’m going to treat you with oxygen, okay?”

Robert frowns. He needs to know about Aaron, needs to find him, needs to see for himself what’s happening. He wants to find Vic, too, to make sure she’s okay. He wants to find out exactly what happened. But he nods, accepts the mask she presses to his face, and breathes oxygen into his aching lungs.

Hours pass. He watches staff rush by, busy, kept off their feet by the emergency. He waits, impatient and desperate for news, but no one comes to tell him about Aaron. His x-ray comes back clear and he’s given some painkillers and a prescription, and, finally, he’s lead down a twisting myriad of hallways. 

The polished linoleum squeaks under his shoes, echoing in the empty, stretching corridors. It’s getting dark, the sky outside an inky haze, and Robert can smell the sting of antiseptic and the sharp, citrus polisher they’ve used on the floor. He can smell the acrid stench of his own sweat and smoke clinging to his skin and clothes. It makes him want to vomit. He’s cold, but the industrial heaters are on; he can feel the rush of stale air hitting him as he walks underneath them. He reckons he’s chilled now his body is away from the searing blaze of the fire, cold in the wake of the intense heat. 

The nurse stops outside a waiting room. “If you could wait in here, Mr Sugden.”

Robert stops. “Is there any news?” he rasps. “About Aaron?”

“I’m afraid not. Someone will come by when we know more about his condition.”

The lack of information is still exactly what he needed: it’s confirmation that Aaron is alive. Hours later, Aaron is still alive, and that has to be a good sign, surely? It means that he’s pulling through. After spending so long not knowing if Aaron was dead, if Robert had already lost him while he wasn’t even there, it’s a blistering relief. 

He pushes open the door and several heads snap up. The small waiting room is full and Robert doesn’t have a chance to take in all the faces before Vic rushes towards him.

“Rob,” she sobs, wrapping her arms tight around him.

He hugs her back, planting his palms solidly on her back, needing the reassurance that she’s okay just as much as she needs the reassurance that _he_ is. She cries into his shoulder and he hushes her quietly, trying to comfort her despite how lost he feels. 

Looking over the top of her head, he takes in the people sat in the room. Adam’s sat with Cain and Moira. Chas is here, her hands wringing together as she hunches forward, face pale and vacant, tears dried in silvery paths on her cheeks. Andy’s here, too, looking completely drained, but he catches Robert’s gaze and gives him a small nod. Robert isn’t surprised to see the rest of the Dingle clan squeezed into the room, but he _is_ surprised to see Belle, cradled against Lisa’s side, expression empty, eyes dull. Her arm is encased in a bright pink plaster cast, tucked carefully against her stomach.

Vic pulls back. “I didn’t know where you were,” she says, voice cracking slightly. “No one could tell me anything. I thought…Rob, you went in there, and I thought – I thought I was going to lose you. All of ya.”

“I had to,” he murmurs. “I had to save him, Vic.”

“I know.” She wipes a hand across her face, clearing away tears. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Chest x-ray and some oxygen and they gave me the all clear.” Robert glances between her and Adam. “What about you?”

“Same,” Cain answers for them. “Suppose we were lucky.”

Robert nods. “Aaron? Any news?”

He presses his lips together. “Not yet.”

Chas gets to her feet suddenly, crossing the space between them. She looks at him for a long moment and then her face crumples as she reaches out, cupping his face in cool, trembling hands.

“You saved him,” she whispers.

He swallows. “Not alone.”

“You ran in there,” she insists. “You saved my boy.”

He doesn’t know what to say, because they don’t know that yet. They got Aaron out of the house but who knows what will happen now. His lungs might have taken too much damage, not to mention his head injury. They might still lose him. 

“I tried,” he mumbles.

Chas hugs him, hard, and he holds her as she cries. Eventually, Cain gets to his feet and gently pulls her away, guiding her back over to the chairs to sit. There are no seats left, so Robert moves to lean against the wall, but Marlon unfolds his tall frame from one of the armchairs.

“Sit, mate,” he says, shaking his head when Robert starts to refuse. “You’ve been through it. You should sit.”

So Robert sinks into the chair with a grateful nod. Leaning forward, he clasps his hands between his knees. The silence of the room is stifling.

“Bernice?” he asks quietly.

“They gave her some oxygen and treated her burn,” Andy replies. “She’s alright. I told her to go home and get some sleep.”

Robert nods. He looks up, looks around until his gaze finds Debbie. “Ross?”

“No idea,” she murmurs. “His family are here, though. In another room.” 

Robert looks down at his hands. “What happened?”

“Lachlan,” Belle whispers.

“I know that. But what _happened_?”

He needs to know. He needs to know exactly what went down, what Lachlan did to Aaron, to Vic and Andy, just how much he hurt them. He needs to know that Lachlan will pay for all of this. 

Fresh tears threaten to spill down Belle’s cheeks, but she squares her jaws and refuses to let them fall. Sitting up, she swipes the hand that isn’t in a cast across her face, wiping away stale tears and exhaustion.

“Bernice got a text from Chrissie,” Andy says quietly. “Said she needed her to go up and discuss something to do with the salon’s leasehold. I went with her. Lachlan answered the door and he – he had a gun. Dunno where he got it from.”

_The safe_, Robert thinks, remembering the firearm Chrissie kept in it. It makes sense that Lachlan went for that one instead of the shotgun; he’s clever, knew to pick something that didn’t need reloading so quickly, that was easier to wield against multiple people. 

“He took us through to the kitchen, told us to sit down at the table,” Andy continues. “Aaron was already there, on the floor, bleeding. I tried to check on him but Lachlan wouldn’t let me near him.”

Robert closes his eyes. Even without the photo Lachlan sent him, he can picture it so easily, Aaron alone and unconscious on the floor, bleeding heavily with no chance of help. He has to take a deep breath to combat the fresh snarl of anger that snags between his ribs.

“Chrissie were there and all,” Andy adds. “Sat at the table. Ross was in one of the chairs but he was out cold. Lachlan hit him with the crowbar too, I reckon.”

“Crowbar?” Robert repeats. Bile burns in his throat. “That’s what he hit Aaron with?”

Andy nods. “I think so. Then Vic showed up.”

“I got a text from Chrissie too,” Vic says quietly. “Asking me to go up to Home Farm to discuss catering for a leaving do. Adam gave me a lift and said he’d wait in the car. I knocked and Chrissie shouted for me to go in -.”

“Lachlan forced her to,” Andy mutters. “Held the gun to her head.”

“So I went in. The second I walked into the kitchen, he turned the gun on me.” Vic closes her eyes, swallows. “He were ranting and raving. He’d completely lost it. Going on and on about his dad and this village being poison and – and you, Robert, how he was gonna make you pay. Kept repeating it over and over. And then Belle arrived.”

Belle shudders slightly. Lisa smooths a hand over her hair, face crumpling as she pulls her back into the safety of her embrace, and Belle bites back a sob, visibly steels herself. Pale, watery eyes find Robert.

“I had a row with Lachlan yesterday,” she mumbles. “About Aaron. Told him I was sick of him having a go at him, told him that if he kept it up, I was done with him. That I didn’t want to be around him no more. He was proper upset after, kept sending me messages and leaving voicemails begging me to speak to him. So I went up there to talk it out with him. The door was unlocked so I just let myself in. Done it plenty of times before, Lachlan never minded. I went into the kitchen and – and _God_. They were all sat there at the table, silent, while he held this gun and he were crying and it were just – it were _awful_.”

“It’s okay, lass,” Zak says gently. “You’re alright.”

“I surprised him,” Belle continues. “I weren’t supposed to be there. I tried to talk him down and he – he listened at first. Let me get close to him. I tried to convince him to stop. But when I tried to take the gun, he lost it again, he just – he just _snapped_.”

“He broke her bleedin’ arm,” Marlon seethes. 

“I were on the floor and I thought I was gonna be sick or pass out, it hurt so much. But he made me sit at the table and all. Held the gun to my head ‘til I did.” 

“Ross and Belle weren’t part of the plan, I don’t think,” Andy says quietly. “He were proper panicking. Ross woke up and Lachlan had no clue what to do. Just kept going on and on about stuff that made no sense, trying to figure out how to sort it and stick to his original plan. He got this can of gasoline and started splashing it about. Some of it got on Aaron’s leg and he just smirked. He was completely mental.”

Robert’s hands curl into fists. He stares down at them, looks at the crescent moons dug into his palms by his nails, and tries to breathe past the rush of anger and fear he feels at the thought of Lachlan throwing gasoline onto Aaron.

“Me and Ross, we looked at each other and we knew we had to do something,” Andy continues. “So he nodded and we rushed him together. Tried to knock him down but Ross were still out of it from being knocked out and there was a scuffle and – and the gun went off. Ross just hit the floor. He’d got shot in the leg. I tried to help him and Lachlan hit me with the gun.”

“I heard it,” Adam interrupts. “I was in the car waiting and I heard the gunshot, so I ran inside. By the time I got to the kitchen, Lachlan had lit a match. I had no fucking clue what was going on, just that one second Vic’s screaming for me and Aaron’s on the floor and then – then the room was on fire.”

“He saved us,” Vic whispers. “Took Lachlan by surprise and hit him. The gun went flying and I dunno what happened after that, just that Adam got me out of there. And then you showed up, Rob.”

Robert runs his hands over his face. He feels completely drained and too full all at once, unable to cope with all of the emotions raging inside of him. He rubs at his sore eyes and sits back. When he looks up again, Chas is pacing. 

The door opens and they all straighten, but it’s just Paddy. Chas’s face crumples and he wordlessly hugs her, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she sobs. He looks like he’s been crying too; he’s pale, eyes red-rimmed behind his glasses. But he’s holding it together for Chas’s sake, that much is clear.

“Any news?” he asks.

Cain shakes his head. “Not yet, mate.”

“But he’s alive,” Paddy says. “That’s a good sign.”

The room settles back into a tense, thick silence. At some point, Debbie goes off to get drinks, returning with a tray full of coffees for everyone. It’s bitter and strong, exactly what they all need to combat the exhaustion. Vic tucks up against Adam’s side and falls asleep and Belle drops off soon after, but Robert refuses to close his eyes. He won’t be able to rest until he knows if Aaron’s okay.

Liv arrives in the evening. She skids into the room, Sandra in tow, and she’s pale and tear-streaked, her eyes looking around wildly before she throws herself at Chas. They hug tightly, Chas stroking Liv’s knotted hair gently to try and comfort her, her own chin wobbling as she tries to keep herself together for Liv’s sake.

“What happened?” Liv demands.

“There was a fire,” Chas says carefully. “Aaron was hurt, love.”

“But he’ll be okay?”

She swallows. “We don’t know yet.” 

Liv pulls away and looks around again. Blue eyes land on Robert. “Chas said on the phone that you helped him. You saved him?”

“I tried to,” he replies quietly.

She hugs him hard enough for it to hurt and he carefully returns it, trying to soothe her despite how lost he feels. Sandra looks exhausted and she offers them a small, sad smile. After Liv settles in the chair Zak vacates, Chas gently covers her with her own coat and Sandra places her own jumper under Liv’s head as a makeshift pillow, and then Sandra disappears. She returns with fresh coffee and food. The first gets gulped down. Robert and Chas barely touch the latter.

Finally, a doctor steps into the room and Robert snaps to his feet along with Chas, desperate hope and dread a tight, sickening knot in his chest. 

“I’m Dr Clare,” he says. “Are you the family of Mr Dingle?”

Chas nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah we are. I’m his mum. Is he okay? What’s happening? It’s been hours.”

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Dr Clare says gently. “We had to take Mr Dingle to surgery.”

“Surgery?” Robert repeats. “What for?”

Dr Clare gestures for them to sit down, his expression clinically sympathetic in the way that makes Robert want to grit his teeth. But he obliges, sinking back into his seat, and tries to hold back his impatience as Dr Clare talks directly to Chas.

“Your son inhaled a lot of smoke, which caused his lungs to swell and block oxygen. He had to be intubated by the paramedics before they could bring him here, but due to the damage to his lungs, the intubation failed shortly before he arrived. We had to resuscitate him and perform another intubation to stabilise him before we could assess his head injury and send him for a CT scan.”

“And?” Chas demands.

“From what we can ascertain, Mr Dingle was hit with a blunt force object -.”

“A crowbar,” Robert says quietly. 

Chas swallows. “How bad is it?”

“He was very lucky,” he reassures her. “He suffered a minor linear fracture to his skull, but his brain wasn’t injured and the trauma didn’t cause any bleeds. But further assessment of his lungs showed he was suffering from pulmonary edema.”

“The hell is that?” Cain demands.

“Fluid on the lungs,” Robert murmurs, frowning. “Isn’t it?”

Dr Clare nods. “I believe the smoke inhalation combined with certain toxins in the smoke caused by various materials burning in the house caused it. Essentially, excess fluid in the lungs collected in numerous air sacs. We had to treat him urgently by taking him to theatre to perform thoracentesis, which meant we inserted a needle into the pleural space between the lungs and chest wall in order to drain the excess fluid. The procedure went well. We also suctioned away secretions and debris from his lungs, and we’ve managed to stabilise him.”

“So he’s okay?” Chas asks hopefully. “He’ll be alright?”

“Mr Dingle isn’t out of the woods yet,” Dr Clare says gently. “He inhaled a lot of smoke. We can’t determine what toxins might have been in that smoke. It depends on what burned; plastic, for example, is dangerous. But his lungs are damaged. Once we completed the procedure, we had to intubate him again in order to keep him breathing, as his airway is obstructed by the swelling.”

“Is he awake?” Adam asks.

“I’m afraid Mr Dingle is currently in a coma,” he replies carefully. “We’re treating him with oxygen, but the next twenty four hours are critical. If he wakes up -.”

“If,” Chas repeats hoarsely.

“We’ll know more,” he finishes. “But until then, all we can do is monitor him and keep him breathing. I’m sorry.”

Robert closes his eyes, sinks into the bleak, ugly grief that coils around him, twisting his guts up into snarled knots. He has to take a second to feel it, all of it, fragmenting him into splinters of pain and hopelessness, before he swallows and pushes it all back, locks it firmly away so he can focus on Aaron.

“Can we see him?” he asks. “I know he’s not awake, but can we – can we just be with him?”

Dr Clare nods. “I’m afraid only three of you at a time,” he says, a note of apology in his tone. “Family only.”

Chas and Liv get to their feet. Robert wants to follow, wants, _needs_ to see Aaron, but he looks at Paddy and Cain. 

“Robert should go,” Paddy says quietly, avoiding Robert’s gaze. “He’s his partner. He saved him.”

Cain nods his agreement and Robert exhales shakily. He can’t find the words, so he nods back and gets to his feet. The three of them follow silently as Dr Clare leads them out of the room and down the hallway. There aren’t any windows and even with the lights on, shadows cling to the corners of the corridor, dim in some effort to be sensitive to the desolate atmosphere of the department. 

Chas stops suddenly, head snapping towards an open door, and Robert frowns, pausing next to her. It’s another waiting room and a familiar voice filters out, worn and deep and steady. Lawrence. He’s giving a statement to a copper, stood, sombre and sensible, next to a weeping Chrissie, a solemn frown on his creased face.

“- I’m afraid,” he says gruffly. “I wasn’t there. I was walking the grounds at the time. I was on my way back when I heard the gunshot. By the time I got to the house, it was already ablaze. I suppose I was lucky, really.”

“Lucky,” Chas repeats flatly, and Lawrence’s gaze snaps to the doorway. “Yeah. Yeah, lucky you. My boy is in a _coma_. Belle’s got a broken arm and she’s bloody traumatised. Ross was shot. But you, you weren’t there, you got away completely unscathed. Funny that, ain’t it? How is that fair? How is it fair that my Aaron might die but you, you’re completely fine?”

“Ms Dingle?” The copper asks, clearing his throat. He looks young, fresh-faced and wide-eyed. “I’m afraid this is -.”

“No,” she bites back and the lad promptly shuts up. “No, how _dare_ he be here, flaunting it. Talking about how lucky he is. Yeah, you’re really lucky, Lawrence. I’m so happy for ya.”

Lawrence’s mouth thins. “I didn’t mean…I’m just giving my statement. I apologise. I didn’t intend to offend anyone.”

Chas shakes her head, disgusted. “Go to hell, Lawrence. Enjoy how _lucky_ you are, yeah? Meanwhile my son might not wake up again.”

“Chas,” Liv whispers. “Please. I need to see him.”

The copper approaches the door. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but -.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she cuts him off again. “We’re going.”

Dr Clare’s frowning, looking more than a little out of his depth, and his shoulders visibly relax when Chas steps away from the room again rather than going in. He’s quiet as he leads them the rest of the way. The walk seems to take forever and Robert realises that Aaron’s been moved from the A&E department to the ICU. Unsurprisingly, the unit is silent and sober. The atmosphere reminds Robert of a bloody funeral and it does little to ease the misery throbbing like a bruise in his ribcage.

Aaron’s in a private room. Dr Clare quietly reminds them not to use their mobiles or disrupt anything and then leaves them to it, giving them privacy as the three of them step into the room. The door quietly taps shut behind them. 

The room is dimly lit; the blinds are down over the window and, outside, the sky is darkening, dusk staining it deep blue and purple. The lights in the room are soft and unobtrusive and the only sound breaking the silence is the steady beep of one of the monitors Aaron’s hooked up to, the mechanical whoosh and click of the machine that’s breathing for him.

Aaron’s always been larger than life to Robert, always filled a room and sucked the air right out of it, right out of Robert’s lungs, drawing him in no matter whoever else is around him. But now he looks so _small_ in the bed, connected to machines, still and silent as a corpse. There’s a tube down his throat, a machine breathing for him because he can’t, giving him the oxygen he desperately needs to combat the effects of the smoke. His head is bandaged up. He looks pale, bruises under his eyes. There’s an IV in his elbow. Robert feels his head spin just looking at him.

_Coma_, he thinks, and it feels so wrong. Aaron shouldn’t be like this. Aaron should be alive and chaotic and cheeky, a pain in Robert’s arse and the love of his life.

Swallowing, he reaches out, touches Aaron’s hand. It’s clammy, almost waxy to the touch. He doesn’t even twitch. Of course he doesn’t. The fingers under Robert’s might as well be plastic. 

“Oi,” he whispers. “Wake up, lazy bones. We’re supposed to be in a hotel right now, you prat. I’m a bit pissed off at you for missing check-in. Don’t think you can avoid my grumpiness just ‘cause you’re in a coma.”

Nothing. No flinch of a finger or blink of his eyelids. The machine whooshes and clicks. The monitor beeps. The heating unit rattles as it suddenly comes to life, spewing stale, warm air into the room to combat the evening chill. Robert watches the almost mechanical rise and fall of Aaron’s chest. He’s otherwise completely still. Just dead weight in the bed. He wonders if Aaron can even hear him, can sense his presence, or if he’s too far gone.

He wonders if Aaron’s already completely lost. 

He curls his fingers around Aaron’s wrist, closes his eyes as he feels the steady thrum of his pulse, beating against the sensitive skin of Robert’s fingertips. He feels like he beats with it, his whole body one single pulse, connected to Aaron as his ribs throb and his heart aches, flayed open and raw by the single sensation of Aaron’s heartbeat. It means he’s alive. 

“You don’t get to do this, alright?” he says. His voice is hoarse, thick with tears, and he can feel them rolling down his face but he doesn’t care. “After all the times we walked away from each other. After all the times you left me. After everything we’ve been through, after I finally get you back…you don’t get to give up on me. You don’t get to do this, Aaron. Please. God, please, don’t do this to me.”

“Love,” Chas whispers. “Love, come on. He’ll be okay. It’s – it’s Aaron. He’s strong. He’ll be okay. He has to be.”

Robert squeezes his eyes shut, bending until he can rest his forehead next to Aaron’s prone hand. “Please. I’m begging ya. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you, Aaron. _Please_.”

***

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, fingers secure around Aaron’s wrist, focused only on the steady beat of Aaron’s pulse drumming against his skin. He’s vaguely aware of Chas and Liv talking to Aaron, hears them crying and knows Aaron wouldn’t be impressed with him being too lost to comfort either of them, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Eventually, though, he has to. He can’t hog the visit and it isn’t fair for Chas or Liv to leave, so Robert does, allowing Paddy and Cain to have their turns. Even Adam sneaks in, ignoring the family only rule. Robert lingers outside, watches Aaron through the window looking into the room, and drinks the burnt swill that someone – Debbie, he thinks – fetches for him from a coffee machine. 

The rest of the Dingles make their visits, too, one at a time. Sandra comes by to give her well wishes and the number for the hotel she’s booked, and then quietly leaves. Vic and Andy swing by, but don’t go in, not wanting to push their luck. They stay with Robert, though, offering him silent, steady support.

And then Chrissie appears, Lawrence a few paces behind her.

She’s pale, eyes puffy and red from crying, and her expression is beseeching as she looks at Robert. He’s too exhausted, too empty, to drum up any response to it, but he does push away from the wall he’d been leaning on.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Now isn’t the time, Chrissie.”

But it’s too late. Chas sees her through the window and she’s storming out of the room a second later, Cain hot on her heels. Liv follows as Cain reaches for his sister’s arm, trying to talk her down from doing anything rash, but she ignores him as the three of them spill out into the crowded corridor. Robert glances towards the end of the hallway; the nurse’s station is just round the corner. The slightest hint of rowdiness and they’ll be booted out. He can’t let that happen. Aaron needs them.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Chas spits.

“I – I came to see if Aaron…if he’s…” Chrissie trails off, swallowing. “How is he?”

She looks empty and haunted, tears dried into silvery scars on her cheeks, mascara smudged underneath her eyes. Robert feels numb, closed off to anything that doesn’t concern Aaron, and he can’t bring himself to sympathise with her, but he reaches out to rest a cautionary hand on Chas’s arm all the same.

“Don’t,” he warns quietly. “Aaron is our priority. Leave them be.”

“My – my son is here too,” Chrissie mumbles, voice wobbling, and Robert wants to bloody shake her.

“Your son?” Chas repeats incredulously. “Your son caused all of this! Your son has, what? A bit of smoke damage and a concussion? Mine is lying in a coma with no guarantee that he’ll wake up. _My boy_ could die. Don’t you dare come around here talking about your _son_.”

“I’m sorry,” Chrissie implores, voice cracking. “I just wanted to see if he’s okay.”

“Why?” Debbie pipes up, tone poisonous. “To see if Lachlan gets done for murder or just attempted murder?”

She sobs. “No, that’s not – I’m _sorry_, I just…”

“How dare you show your face here,” Chas bites out. Her voice is low, dangerous. “If you were _any_ kind of a mother to that boy, he wouldn’t have done this.”

“Alright,” Lawrence cuts in wearily, resting his hands on Chrissie’s shoulders. “Please. That’s enough. We’re all aware of the things Aaron has done in the past, so let’s not discuss parenting, shall we?”

Cain goes from carefully holding Chas back to pushing past her. “You what?” The rage in his voice is colder and deadlier than any razor blade. “Say that again, mate. I _dare_ you.”

Fingers find Robert’s shirt, cling to him, and he looks to his right. Liv’s eyes are wide, gleaming with fresh, unshed tears, and she looks lost and angry and scared. She’s strong and she’s protective of Aaron, but the violence threatening to spill over is too much for her right now, that much is clear from the slight tremble in her fingers as she holds on to Robert.

“Cain,” he says quietly.

He shoots a dark look Robert’s way, looking half a second from lamping him and all, but then his gaze finds Liv. He sees her shaking and on the verge of sobbing and, slowly, reluctantly, he backs off from Lawrence.

“Leave,” he grits out. “While you still have use of your legs, yeah?”

Lawrence clears his throat. “We’re sorry about Aaron. We truly are. We hope he’ll pull through. But our focus right now is on our own boy. I’m sure you understand.”

“_You_ came _here_,” Zak seethes. “What the bloody hell did ya expect?”

“I suggest you get going,” Debbie adds. “Or _I’m_ gonna hit ya.”

Lawrence tugs gently on Chrissie’s arm. She looks between them all, wild and devastated, before she focuses on Robert. A sob crackles in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

He hasn’t got an answer for her. He has nothing to say, nothing he _can_ say; he can’t offer her whatever it is she’s seeking from him. She splinters, knees giving out as she cries, and he knows that she’s traumatised too, knows that she was held at gunpoint and caught in the fire, knows that her son is hurt and going to prison for what he did, but he doesn’t _care_. He can’t bring himself to care. Not when Aaron is lying, comatose, in a hospital bed.

Lawrence has to hold Chrissie up, half-hauling her a few steps away. But before they reach the end of the corridor, the sombre silence of the unit is fractured by shrill alarms and beeping, and staff come running, shoes squeaking on the floor, fast and efficient as they beeline towards the room.

Aaron’s room.

“No,” Chas gasps. “Oh god, please, no.”

Robert’s moving even though he can’t feel his legs, angling towards the door to Aaron’s room, but a nurse stops him, barking out a firm command for them all to stay out. The door clatters shut, leaving them outside, disconnected from Aaron, but they can hear the machines screaming, can hear the heart monitor flatlining. They can see him through the window, still as a corpse on the bed as the alarms blare and the doctors work to save him.

“No,” Cain mutters. “No, come on. Come on, lad. Please.”

Robert feels someone at his side. It’s Liv, clinging to him, and he hugs her back automatically, tries to hold her together even as he himself crumples apart, sagging to his knees on the floor. He’s vaguely aware of the others; registers Charity and Debbie trying to comfort Chas as she sobs, hears Adam crying as Vic and Andy alternate between trying to help him and trying to reach out to comfort Robert. 

He’s aware of Cain, so silent it’s dangerous, his grief burning to ruthless rage. And he knows then that if Aaron dies, so will Lachlan. Cain will make sure of it, no matter the consequences. He finds himself echoing the sentiment.

“He’ll be okay,” Liv whispers. “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”

Robert can’t answer. He knows Aaron would give him a bollocking for it, for not being able to offer Liv the comfort she needs, and he hopes desperately that Aaron _will_ have a go at him, because that means he’d be alive. 

“Please,” he whispers. “_Please_.”

He repeats it over and over, begging into silence for Aaron to pull through. He cradles Liv in his arms as she cries, raw and unabashed for once, as broken as he feels as he hugs her tight and stares at the wall. The floor is cold and hard against his knees, the heaters doing little to warm his chilled skin, and he counts the imperfections in the wall, pleading under his breath as time stretches out, suspended by grief and desperation.

It feels like forever before a doctor slips out of the room. Robert looks up, vision blurred, his eyes sore. She looks sombre and his world starts to cave inwards, his heart dead and rotten in his chest as he sags forward, tightening his grip on Liv. Chas collapses, only Cain’s grip on her holding her up.

“We managed to stabilise him,” the doctor says quickly. “But he’s not out of the woods yet.”

“But he’s alive?” Chas croaks. 

She nods. “His intubation was displaced by further inflammation in his lungs. His heart stopped due to respiratory failure, but we managed to resuscitate him.”

“But it might happen again?” Adam demands.

“We’re using corticosteroids to suppress his immune system and reduce the swelling, which will make intubation easier. We’ll be able to tell soon if they’re working,” she says gently. “Which will give us a better idea. For now, all we can do is monitor him. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait in the family room now.”

Chas opens her mouth to argue, but Cain tugs gently on her arm, coaxing her away from the room. Robert climbs to his feet, knees aching, body weary, and the tiredness is clawing at him. But he reluctantly follows them to the family room at the end of the hall. It’s small but, thankfully, empty. 

Andy and Vic say their goodbyes; she hugs Robert tight and Andy squeezes his shoulder before they go. Lisa and Zak take Belle home and Debbie, Charity and Marlon go with them, promising to come back later in the day during visiting hours. Cain stays, but tells Moira to go home and get some rest. After a long hug with Adam and a kiss to Chas’s cheek, she does, asking them to call her if anything changes.

Robert squeezes onto the small sofa with Liv and Adam. Chas settles into the armchair as Cain ducks into the narrow kitchenette to make a fresh brew for them all. 

“You should catch some kip,” Cain suggests as he sets a mug down in front of Chas. “You look knackered.”

“No,” she murmurs. “Not until I know he’s okay.”

“Chas…”

“No,” she repeats, firmer. “I’m fine.”

He relents, resting his hand on her shoulder in silent support. They sit there, lost and bleak, listening to the soft tick of the clock as time scrapes by. Robert feels hyperaware of his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears, throbbing in his skull. He’s certain he can feel the vibration of it in his teeth. He focuses on the raw, bruised feeling in his lungs, the ache that distracts him from how empty he feels, and simply breathes and waits.

Liv falls asleep eventually, head knocking into Robert’s shoulder. He stands and Adam does too, and they both help her lie down properly on the couch. There’s a cushion that they use to tuck under her head as a pillow and Robert peels off his jacket, draping it over her to keep her warm. With no more chairs, Robert sits on the floor, leaning against the arm of the sofa, and Adam settles on the coffee table. 

He leans forward, hands clasped between his knees, and his gaze finds Robert’s. His dark eyes are hollow, shadowed by bruises, his exhaustion written across his face.

“I’ve been here before, ya know,” he says quietly. “With me dad. Watched through the window as the monitor flatlined and the doctors tried to save him. They couldn’t.”

“You should go, lad,” Cain suggests, but Adam shakes his head.

“No. I’m not leaving him.”

“He’d want you to get some rest,” Robert tries.

“I don’t care. I’m staying. ‘Cause I’ve been here before with him and all.” Tears fill his eyes and Adam rubs at them roughly, inhaling sharply. “I dragged him out of that garage after he tried to top himself. I tried to give him CPR, tried to get him to breathe, to just – to just be okay. And then after, he was intubated and in a coma. I thought we’d lost him then. What if we lose him now?”

“We won’t,” Cain says, tone harder than granite. “He’ll pull through.”

Robert can’t sit still anymore. He feels like he’s suffocating, smothered by the weight of their combined grief. He can’t take it, can’t take Adam’s bleak hopelessness, because if he loses his own hope, he’ll fall apart. So he pushes up to his feet and stumbles towards the door.

“I need some air,” he mutters and steps out, pulling the door shut behind him.

Hotten General is a puzzle at the best of times, a sprawling, spiderlike mass of corridors and wings swallowing up space. He follows the line on the wall that promises a way out, his footsteps echoing in the myriad of empty, dimly lit hallways until he finally reaches the A&E department. The doors slide open automatically and he steps out into the night.

The air is crisp, cool enough to make his sore lungs ache, and he tilts his head back, closes his eyes as he tastes the threat of rain in the breeze. Then he walks forward until he can lean against the railing for the ramp outside, curling his fingers around the rusted iron until he feels chips of it scrape roughly against his palms, dislodged by his grip. The fresh air helps, clearing some of his exhaustion and quietening the buzz in his head. Out here, he can just breathe and hope.

It takes him a few minutes to realise that he isn’t alone. There’s a bloke in trackies leaning against the brick wall, powering through a cigarette, and there’s a woman stood a few feet away, alone and lost in the dark. Robert recognises her instantly.

“Chrissie?”

Slowly, she turns to face him. She’s pale as a ghost, her eyes red and streaming with tears. When she sees him, she crumples, stumbling until she can latch onto the railing. Her heartbreak is palpable.

“Is it Lachlan?” He asks roughly. 

He knows he shouldn’t be hopeful; he knows it’s sick, especially when he’s talking to Lachlan’s mum. But he doesn’t care if Lachlan’s dead. He _wants_ him to be dead, just as much as he wants him to rot his life away in a prison cell. 

Chrissie shakes her head, gaze wild. “No,” she says, fractured by a sob. “No, it’s – it’s dad.”

Robert frowns. “Lawrence? What about him?”

He hadn’t been inside, hadn’t even been near the fire. The bastard himself had said he was lucky to make it out completely unscathed. 

“He collapsed,” Chrissie whispers. “His heart. The – the stress and the smoke, I don’t know, but his heart just gave out and he collapsed, right outside the ward Lachlan’s on.”

It takes a second for her words to sink in. “Is he…?” 

She looks at him again and she looks so young, lost and broken, her grief bleeding out of her as she meets his gaze and answers:

“He’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character death: Lawrence White.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: hospitals; mention of intubation; mention of past infidelity (reference to the affair); mention of fire; reference to Sarah Sugden's death; some angst; mention of violence; mention of Lachlan; mention of blood and injuries; mention of gunshots and gunshot wounds; minor explicit content (discussed).

Twenty-eight hours, seventeen minutes and eight seconds after being rushed to hospital, Aaron wakes up.

Chas notices it first; she’s sat, folded uncomfortably into a hard plastic chair, right next to Aaron’s bed. Robert’s curled up in the armchair tucked into the corner of the room. He’d had to catch some sleep eventually, despite his determination not to, and he’s still half-asleep, dozing lightly. The steady beep of the heart monitor and the whoosh-click of the ventilation machine has been his soundtrack for the past day, so when Chas’s sudden, sharp inhale fractures the white noise, Robert snaps properly awake instantly.

“His finger just moved,” Chas says, jolting up so she’s stood over the bed, eyes wide and hopeful.

Robert clambers out of the armchair. His coat, which he’d been using as a blanket, falls to the floor and his legs are stiff, but he manages to stagger clumsily to his feet and across the room to the bed.

“You sure?” he croaks. 

“I saw it,” she insists. “Look!”

One of Aaron’s fingers, the one pinched in the pulse oximetry, twitches again, ever so slightly. But it moves again, then a fourth time, and Aaron’s eyelids start to flicker. An uncomfortable, dry sound rattles in his throat and the rhythm of the ventilator stutters and changes as Aaron’s chest suddenly swells as he tries to breathe on his own. He chokes around the tube in his throat and airway, his whole body flinching, and Chas starts talking to him, low and soothing, as Robert sprints towards the door.

He opens his mouth to shout for help, but staff are already rushing towards him, alerted by the machines going off. 

“We need you to stay outside,” one of the nurses says firmly.

He nods quickly. He wants to be in there, of course he does, wants Aaron to see him and know he isn’t alone when he opens his eyes, but so long as Aaron is alive and awake, then he’s more than happy to wait outside the room. Chas joins him a second later, looking frazzled but relieved. 

They stand side by side in the corridor, looking through the window as the medical staff get to work. Chas leans into Robert’s side and he curls an arm around her shoulders, anchoring her as they watch the tube being carefully removed. 

“Liv,” Chas murmurs suddenly. “I should…”

“I’ve got it,” Robert reassures her.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket. Cain had gone home eventually at Chas’s insistence, but Adam and Liv stayed. Robert had eventually managed to convince them both to get a break from the hospital by suggesting Adam take Liv to grab something to eat. Now, he calls Adam’s mobile and gazes through the window at Aaron as he listens to the dial out tone.

“Yeah?” Adam answers, voice thick; he’s talking with his mouth full. 

“You should get back here,” Robert says. “He’s awake.”

An audible swallow of food, then, “On our way.”

Robert hangs up and tucks his phone away again. Chas starts to wring her hands, impatience and hope stark on her face, and Robert resists the urge to pace. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off Aaron. Not after he’s spent the past day staring at his pale, unmoving face. 

He knows he shouldn’t get carried away with his hope. Aaron’s awake, but they have no idea what kind of state he’s in. The smoke inhalation and oxygen starvation could have caused permanent damage, to his brain, to his lungs. But he _is_ awake. That alone is critical. The rest they can deal with, so long as Aaron is still alive.

Adam and Liv come skidding down the corridor ten minutes later. There’s brown sauce and mustard staining Adam’s shirt and one of Liv’s trainers is unlaced, almost tripping her as she comes to a stop, rubber soles scriking against the floor. 

“Well?” she demands breathlessly.

“We don’t know yet, love,” Chas murmurs, drawing her into a side-hug. “They’re looking him over now. But he’s awake.”

Liv’s eyes gleam with tears, but she smiles. Adam claps his hand on Robert’s shoulder and leaves it there, as if to lean on him for support, relief stark on his face. The four of them stay there, clustered in the corridor, for what feels like forever. They have to squish up against the window to let a couple of porters push an empty bed past and Robert’s distinctly aware of the state of them, especially him and Adam. They’ve been in the hospital the whole time, so no shower or change of clothes. He’s been stubbornly ignoring the acrid stench of smoke clinging to him, knowing that if he lets himself dwell on it, he’ll fall apart.

Finally, a couple of nurses slip out, followed by the doctor who had taken over Aaron’s care upon his transferral to the ICU. She offers them a kind smile and gestures them over to the row of seats lining the wall, encouraging them to sit.

“How is he?” Chas asks.

“Groggy,” Dr Battersby says. “But that’s to be expected. He’s on some strong pain relief, too, so he’s a little out of it. But he passed all of our neurological tests with flying colours.”

“So he’s – he’s alright?” Liv demands.

“From that angle, yes. He’s incredibly lucky that he didn’t suffer any cognitive damage. But he’s coherent, sharp,” she pauses, smiles slightly. “Got one hell of a sense of humour, hasn’t he? And a bit of a mouth on him.”

Chas gives a watery laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s our Aaron.”

“He asked about his prat of a boyfriend,” Dr Battersby adds.

Robert grins, almost shaky with relief. “He’s really okay?”

“We’re going to run some more tests on his lungs to check that there isn’t any permanent damage,” she says. “But, otherwise? He’s doing great. If the tests come back clear, then I’m happy to say that, after some rest and recovery for his lungs, he’ll be completely fine.”

“Can we see him?” Robert asks.

She nods. “One at a time, I’m afraid. Like I said, he’s groggy and he needs his rest, so no overwhelming him.”

Chas wipes at her face, quickly smearing away tears. “Thank you,” she says. 

Dr Battersby smiles, gives Chas’s elbow a brief, gentle squeeze. “I’ll go arrange those tests,” she says, and slips past them to head to the nurses station.

Chas goes first. Robert doesn’t watch through the window, giving her and Aaron their privacy. Instead, he stays settled on one of the seats bolted to the wall. It’s hard and uncomfortable, metal creaking under his weight, but he’s knackered enough that he doesn’t care. He leans his head back against the wall, lets the white noise of the ICU fill his skull, and allows himself to just breathe and feel relieved.

He registers the shift in weight on the seats as Chas and Liv swap places. He opens his eyes, catches the soft haze of tears in Chas’s eyes, the sheen on her cheeks from hurriedly scrubbing them away. 

“He okay?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“Doped up on morphine,” she replies with a little laugh. “But he wanted to know what happened.”

“Did you tell him?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. Told him to get some rest first.”

Robert nods. He knows that, once the strong painkillers have worn off, Aaron will be a lot more persistent. But for now, he agrees with Chas; Aaron needs his rest. Getting worked up over Lachlan, over everything that happened, won’t do him or his lungs any favours.

“He asked after ya,” Chas adds. “I told him you’d be in soon.” She pauses, slants him a look. “He proper loves you, don’t he?”

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, smiling. “Yeah, he does.”

“And you love him.”

“Yes.”

“I was worried, ya know,” she says. “That you’d hurt him.”

“I know,” he replies quietly.

“I reckoned you’d end up cheating on him and all.”

He sighs. “I do have a history for it,” he admits.

“But you won’t.”

The conviction in her voice has him looking over at her, surprised. He knows there’s no way that he’ll ever risk what he has with Aaron. Nothing and no one else even comes close to Aaron. They never will. Why would he stray when he has someone as beautiful, as incredible, as loving as Aaron? He wouldn’t. Not ever. But he hadn’t expected Chas to be so sure, given the history between them all.

“You ran into a burning house to save him,” she points out. “You absolutely stink but you’ve been here this whole time. I saw your face in there. You love him. You’ll take care of him. I know you won’t cheat on him or hurt him.” She reaches out, pats his hand gently. “You’re a prat, Robert Sugden, but you’re his prat. Which makes you ours and all.”

He smiles slightly. “Sounds like a threat,” he jokes.

“Oi, watch it.” She offers him a grin. “Tell ya what, though. I reckon you’ll be drinking from the wellie next.”

“Not a chance. Besides, he might become a Sugden.”

She shrugs. “Don’t matter. He’s still a Dingle.”

“Aaron Sugden has a nice ring to it.”

“It does,” she allows. “But I’ve been a Spencer and a…” She pauses, clears her throat. “Anyway, I’m still a Dingle. Blimey, look at Charity. She’s been Charity Tate, Charity Sharma, Charity Macey, but she’s still a proper Dingle through and through, ain’t she?”

“Well,” he says mildly. “She did almost marry her cousin, so, yeah.”

“Pillock,” she accuses. “They’re second cousins, so it don’t count.”

He tilts his head. “Pretty sure it does.”

She smiles. “Robert Dingle has a nice ring to it and all.”

“I suppose,” he agrees. “Or Sugden-Dingle.”

Her nose wrinkles slightly. “Nah. Dingle. You’re one of us now, sunshine.”

Robert huffs a slight laugh. “I haven’t even proposed yet.”

“Yet,” she repeats gleefully. “But you’re going to?”

“Someday. Once the barn is sorted and we’ve lived together for a bit. I want things to settle before I pop the question.” He pauses. “That alright? If I do ask him?”

She considers, then shrugs. “I suppose I can think of worse blokes for my son to get hitched to,” she says, eyes sparkling, and Robert grins.

She smiles back and tucks her tangled hair behind her ears. They sit in silence for a few minutes before she looks at him again, her expression a little more solemn.

“You okay, though?” she asks.

“My lungs hurt,” he replies. “But I’m fine.”

“No, I mean…” she pauses, then finishes, carefully, “With the fire and all. Must have brought back bad memories. How are you?” 

Robert takes a deep, raw breath. “I’m fine,” he repeats. “Might send me spinning later, but right now, I’m okay. Aaron’s alive. That’s all that matters to me.”

She nods. “You went in there, though,” she says. “Even though…well. You still went in.”

“I had to save him.”

She nods, gaze kind. “Feel free to smack me if this isn’t my place, but I reckon Sarah would be proud of ya, you know.”

He swallows, his dry, sore throat clicking with the movement. It feels like something inside him eases with her words, an old crack in his heart starting to seal over. Instead of the festering hurt he feels whenever Diane brings Jack up, tells him that he’d be proud of him like it’s something Robert should feel grateful to her for saying, he just feels relieved and thankful, and a little bit wistful. He thinks his mum would be proud of him, too. He hopes she is.

He doesn’t know why it feels like a balm coming from Chas, either. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to take it if Diane said it, or Andy. But from Chas, a mother, _Aaron’s_ mother, it’s a relief so sharp that it brings tears to his eyes and he has to take a moment to just breathe, pulling himself back together.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, and she offers a small smile.

Liv comes out a few minutes later. She’s been crying, but she smiles when she sees them and sits down, accepting the brief hug Chas offers her. Robert glances at Adam, who’s been leaning against the wall, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. 

He shakes his head. “Nah, mate. You should go.”

Robert nods, getting to his feet. “Thanks.”

He pushes open the door to Aaron’s room, slips inside before he lets it fall shut behind him again with a quiet, slick click. The soles of his shoes tap a rhythm on the linoleum as he approaches the bed, relief curling through his ribs when he sees Aaron.

The tube is gone, replaced with an oxygen mask. Aaron breathes a little sluggishly, lungs crackling, and his eyes are tinted red from the smoke, half-lidded with exhaustion. But he doesn’t look like a dying man anymore. He’s pale and he looks knackered, but he’s alive and he’s awake, and his mouth tugs up into a small smile behind his mask when he sees Robert.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Robert manages.

Aaron’s gaze doesn’t stray from Robert’s face, sharp as ever despite his exhaustion. His fingers twitch on the bed and Robert gently curls his own around them, holding on.

“I thought I’d lost ya,” he continues. “And I can’t, alright? I might as well die and all. So don’t. Don’t you dare leave me. Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Aaron closes his eyes. Slowly, he gives a nod, fingers squeezing around Robert’s with a surprising strength. He squeezes back more gently, traces his thumb along the edge of the hospital bracelet around Aaron’s wrist. After a moment, Aaron lifts his free hand to his face, nudging the mask down around his neck.

Robert frowns. “Oi. You should keep that on.”

“M’fine,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, as if he’s been swallowing sandpaper. Then he smirks slightly, the edges of it softened by morphine. “So. You cried over my bedside.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mum told me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re up to your eyeballs on a pretty intense cocktail of drugs right now,” Robert replies with a cheeky smile. “You obviously misheard her.”

“Course I did. You stink, by the way.”

“Oh, cheers,” he says. “I spend over a day here at your bedside and that’s what you’ve got for me. Nice.”

“Proper rank,” Aaron adds, pulling a face. “You’ve not showered?”

“Crying over your bedside, remember? No time for showers.” Robert taps his fingertips gently against Aaron’s palm. He takes a sniff of his own shirt and wrinkles his nose. “I suppose I do stink a bit, though.” 

“S’not so bad. All I can smell is smoke. Taste it in me mouth, smell it in my nostrils. Your rank sweat is a nice break.”

“Cheers. I think.” Robert shakes his head. “I’m afraid I reek of smoke too, though.”

Aaron frowns. “Why?”

“Well, I sort of saved your life.” He shrugs. “No big deal.”

“Yeah?”

“Cain and Adam helped a bit, I suppose. But it was mostly me. You’re welcome, by the way. I don’t want to throw around the word hero, but…”

“Prat,” Aaron rasps, a fond smile ghosting across his mouth. “Thanks, though. For saving my life. I suppose I owe you.”

“Oh, at least five blowjobs,” Robert agrees, smiling when Aaron huffs a little laugh.

It quickly changes into an awful, crackling, hacking cough and Robert quickly brings the mask up to Aaron’s face, encouraging him to breathe. He rubs his chest gently, trying to soothe him.

“Ssh,” he murmurs. “Just rest, yeah?”

Once the coughing fit passes, Aaron eases back against pillows again. He breathes deeply a few times, then pushes the mask down again, ignoring Robert’s quiet reprimand. 

“Lachlan,” he mumbles, voice raspy, like there’s grit rolling in his throat. “He did it, didn’t he?”

Robert swallows and nods. “Yeah.”

“It were bad, weren’t it?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he repeats softly. “Don’t worry about it right now, okay?”

“What happened?”

“Aaron. Don’t. It can wait.”

He squeezes Robert’s fingers. “Just tell me. I remember some of it. Not getting hit, but I remember – I remember going up there. No one answered the door, so I went round the back. The kitchen door were open so I went in and then – then nothing. He must have whacked me as soon as I stepped inside.”

“Coward,” Robert bites out. “Knew he wouldn’t be able to take you on, so he snuck up on you with a crowbar, hit you from behind.”

“Embarrassing,” Aaron says. “Both me and Ross getting knocked out by some scrawny little scrote.”

He frowns. “How’d you know about Ross?”

“I told ya. I remember some of it.”

“I thought you were unconscious.”

“Mostly, yeah. But there’s…there’s flashes. Dunno how much of it is real or not. I don’t think I woke up, not properly, but I were in and out of it a bit. I remember voices. Ross was one of ‘em. I think…” He stops, pulls a face. “I think he tried to help me.”

“Eugh,” Robert says, and Aaron gives a hazy grin.

“Yeah. Not what I expected from him. But I heard him get hit. And other stuff. Voices, like I said. Lachlan gobbing off, Chrissie, I think – I think Belle was there? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he soothes quickly.

“There was a gunshot.”

“Yeah. Ross got shot.”

“Shit. Is he…?”

“He was alive when he got loaded into the ambulance,” Robert replies. “I dunno how he is. I’ve been here with you the whole time. I reckon he was owed it, though, considering he shot me.”

“Save the jokes until you know he’s alright,” Aaron suggests.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Is Lachlan…?”

“Alive? Yeah, unfortunately. He got a bit of a concussion so they kept him in, but he was released earlier, taken straight into custody by the coppers. Good thing for him, too, considering your uncle was out for blood. He wasn’t the only one, either. Pete was on the warpath too.”

“Chrissie?”

“She’s….she’s alright,” Robert hazards. “But Lawrence is, uh. He’s dead.”

Aaron swallows. “Fuck. Lachlan killed him?”

“He had a heart attack here in the hospital. Stress, apparently. His heart just failed.” 

He sits up slightly, opens his mouth to ask for more information, but then his face screws up slightly in pain. His throat must be sore, raw from the smoke, and talking isn’t helping. Robert helps him drink some water, then eases him back against the pillows. He places the mask back over Aaron’s face.

“Rest,” he says firmly. “I’ll tell you everything when you’re up to it, and not doped up on morphine, alright? Just rest.”

He smiles slightly, taps his fingers against Robert’s wrist affectionately. Seconds later, his eyes are drifting shut and he falls asleep, sinking into chemical slumber thanks to the strong painkillers. Robert lingers for a few minutes, just watching him, letting the weight of his grief and worry lift from his shoulders now he knows for himself that Aaron really is okay.

Then he reluctantly leaves the room. Adam perks up and Robert offers a slight smile.

“Bad luck. He’s gone to sleep.” 

Adam shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to see him.” He pauses though, glancing between Robert and the door to Aaron’s room. “I can’t believe he’s okay. I reckon he’s got nine lives, that lad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, then gripes, “He better not test that theory, though. I don’t think _my_ heart could take it.”

“Robert,” Chas chastens sharply.

“Bad taste?” he asks.

“Insensitive,” she says. “I didn’t like the bloke, but he…he didn’t deserve to die like that.” 

Her gaze slides away and Robert knows she’s feeling guilty for what she said to Lawrence, for having a go at him about being lucky enough to survive. He reaches out and gives her shoulder a brief squeeze before he looks back at Adam.

“Look,” he says. “I should’ve asked before, but…” He gestures towards Aaron’s room. “I suppose I forgot that Ross is your brother and all.”

“Half,” Adam replies automatically.

“How is he?”

“He’s doing alright. Got a nasty concussion and a few stitches in his head. But he’s lucky. Doctors reckon if the bullet had hit just an inch to the left, he’d have bled out. As it is, it messed up some muscle and some nerves, but they think with time and rehab he’ll be alright.”

Robert nods. “I’m glad. Aaron reckons he tried to help him.”

Adam raises his eyebrows slightly in surprised confusion, but doesn’t ask. He just claps Robert on the shoulder. “Cheers for asking, mate.” 

Robert watches him disappear into Aaron’s room, then sinks down onto one of the seats. Liv looks knackered, but she lifts her head from Chas’s shoulder, yawning before she looks at Robert.

“Now we know he’ll be alright,” she says, a cheeky glint in her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ll go and shower now? You reek.”

He laughs slightly. “Cheers.” 

His initial response is to decline. He knows Aaron will be sleeping a lot, but he still wants to be here, especially after the tests have been run and Dr Battersby knows for sure whether or not Aaron’s lungs will fully recover. But Chas clearly doesn’t want to leave either and Liv looks like a zombie. So he nods, getting to his feet.

“Yeah,” he says. “And let’s get some proper grub and some sleep, too.”

***

Charity’s behind the bar when they get back to the Woolpack. She’s serving a punter, but she looks up when she hears the doors clatter open.

“Oi, hey,” she says. “Chas text me. He’s awake? How is he?”

The pub is fairly quiet. Most of the Dingles are here, taking up a couple of tables, and a few locals are dotted around the rest of the room. All of them look at Robert, waiting for his answer, and he feels a relieved smile on his face as he says:

“The doctors reckon he’ll be okay.”

She cheers and there’s palpable relief not just from the Dingles, but from everyone else in the pub. As Charity starts pouring drinks to celebrate, Edna sidles up to Robert, offers him a kind smile.

“I’m glad Aaron’s alright,” she says. “He’s a decent boy.”

“Thanks, Edna.”

She’s not the only well-wisher, but eventually, he manages to escape, Liv right behind him. She insists that he showers first and his arm doesn’t need much twisting; away from the sterile smell of the hospital, the stench of smoke and sweat is even more acrid. He’s sure he can taste it in the back of his mouth.

He cranks the heat up high and starts to scrub at his skin, but the second steam starts to fill the bathroom, he finds his heart tripping in his chest, unease scraping down his spine. He twists the dial right back round until the water turns cold and it’s uncomfortable, leaves him shivering, but he doesn’t care. It’s better than any reminder of the intense heat and smoke. 

He cleans himself thoroughly, until his skin is a little pink, and washes his hair twice. He brushes his teeth in the shower, uses the prescription mouthwash that Noah has that tastes closer to bathtub gin than anything minty, but it’s potent enough to do the job. Once he’s sure he smells only of Aaron’s shower gel and he can only taste the lingering peppermint of toothpaste in his mouth, he shuts off the water and climbs out, grabbing a towel.

When he gets to their room, he finds that someone has picked up the weekend bag from where he’d left it discarded on the pub floor. They’ve put it on the bed and he stops, looking down at it. Their printed out hotel reservation is tucked into the pocket on the front and he feels a horrible ache in his chest. 

Aaron’s out of the woods. He’ll be okay. They all will. But he still can’t think about it, can’t think about the fire or how close they came to _not_ being okay, can’t think about what he’d have done if Aaron didn’t survive. He knows he wouldn’t cope. 

They should be at a hotel right now. Should be naked and sweaty on a king size bed. They should be ordering stupid amounts of room service and watching the telly. Aaron should be griping about the rainy weather and work and everything else he gets grumpy about and Robert should be listening, fond, because he loves Aaron, loves all of him, including his crankiness. They should be having fun, not…not in a hospital, or scrubbing the smell of smoke – which, in Robert’s mind, will always be the stench of death – out of their pores. 

Slowly, he gets dressed, stealing one of Aaron’s shirts. He needs the comfort, needs the faint trace of Aaron’s deodorant and engine oil that clings to the fabric. He unpacks the bag and shoves it back into the wardrobe, crumples the reservation paper up and tosses it into the bin. 

He’ll rebook. Not just a weekend, but a proper holiday, wherever Aaron wants to go. As soon as he’s well enough, they’ll have some time away, time for just them. 

By the time he makes his way downstairs, Liv’s showered, changed clothes, and is wolfing down a crisp sandwich. There’s a can of coke on the table next to her elbow.

“Nutritious,” Robert remarks.

She rolls her eyes, takes a bite; the crisps crunch between her teeth. “I’m hungry.”

He grabs an apple from the bowl on the table and a knife from the drawer, starting to slice the fruit into thin crescent moons. He sets them down on Liv’s plate and she pulls a face.

“Aaron will have a go if he knows I’m letting you eat crap,” he says.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause he can talk,” she mutters. “With his steady diet of pizza and chips.”

“He runs,” Robert points out. “And I manage to get healthy stuff in him sometimes.”

She pulls a face but picks up a slice of apple, biting into it. There’s a sullen scowl on her face that’s familiar and Robert offers her a small smile.

“He really will be okay, you know,” he says.

“I know. I just…” She shakes her head. “I thought I were gonna lose him.”

“You won’t. He’s pretty hard to get rid of. Dingle trait, I reckon. They’re like bad pennies.”

She huffs a small laugh at that. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

***

He has to give his statement to the police that evening. Not that he has much of a statement to give; he’d arrived after most of it. But he tells them about the ordeal, shows them the picture sent from Aaron’s phone, and answers their questions as best he can.

With the other statements, they piece together the full story. Robert knows most of it from what the others told him, but Ross’s involvement slots into place. He’d gone up to see Chrissie, snuck in through the back door only to find Aaron bleeding on the kitchen floor. He’d tried to help him, only for Lachlan to walk in, gun in hand, Chrissie in tow. Ross had stood between Lachlan and Aaron, tried to talk the psychopath down, but it hadn’t worked; the second he tried to make a move, Lachlan bashed him over the head with the crowbar.

Robert goes to see him the next morning. James, Pete and Finn are there and they look surprised to see him, but they don’t kick him out, at least. Pete offers him a nod in greeting.

“How’s Aaron?” he asks.

“Alright,” he replies. “Tests came back clear for his lungs, so. He needs to rest and take some medication for a while, but he’ll fully recover.”

“Good,” James says. “That’s really good.”

Finn looks at Robert. “Heard you ran into the fire to save Aaron.” 

“Yeah.”

“Brave,” Ross remarks from the bed. “Careful, mate. People will start to mistake you for a nice bloke.”

He’s propped up with pillows, a bandage covering the stitches at his hairline. He looks exhausted and he winces slightly when he shifts, but offers a smirk before he pops a chunk of biscuit into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. 

“Bold, coming from you,” Robert replies. “Heard you tried to help Aaron.”

“Bloke comes at you with a gun, you go for the lesser evil,” he replies with a shrug. “I was trying to get us all out of there and away from that prick. I reckon Aaron would have done the same for me. He’s frustratingly bloody decent like that, ain’t he?”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

“So, that why you here?” Ross raises his eyebrows. “Didn’t even bring me some grapes, did ya?”

“You know what fruit is?” Robert asks. “I thought you lived on a diet of beer and curries.”

“Piss off.”

He grins. “I reckon we’re even now, you know.”

Ross narrows his eyes, glancing between his family and Robert, a warning in his expression. When Robert stays silent, making it clear he has no intention of ratting him out about the shooting, Ross relaxes, nods slightly.

“You’re still a knob,” he says.

“And you’re still a prick,” Robert replies easily. “See you around, mate.” 

He starts towards the door, but Ross calls out, stopping him. He glances over his shoulder. 

“Tell Aaron…” Ross smirks slightly. “Tell him I’m sorry he’s feeling better.”

Robert rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell him you offered him a blowjob to help him recover,” he promises, and ducks out of the door a second before Ross flings a biscuit at his head.

***

It’s a week before Aaron’s allowed home.

The corticosteroids do the trick and he’s taken off them after a few days, but they keep him in to monitor his lungs for a couple extra nights. When the doctors are certain the inflammation is reducing, they load him down with prescriptions for painkillers and antibiotics, and finally discharge him.

Robert goes with Chas and Cain to pick him up. He looks healthier, colour in his cheeks, gaze a little more coherent now he’s been switched to a slightly less potent painkiller. But there’s still a crackle in his lungs, still a rasp in his throat, and he leans heavily into Robert as they make their way, slowly, to Cain’s car. It’ll take time and rest for him to recover enough to stop feeling exhausted so much, for his cough to heal. 

“How’s the barn going?” Aaron asks, once they’re on the road.

“What, in the week you’ve been in hospital?” Robert points out dryly.

“Feels like I were in there longer,” he replies, shrugging. “Bloody hate hospitals.”

“Yeah, me too. So try and keep out of them for a while, yeah?”

Aaron nods and shifts slightly to lean his head on Robert’s shoulder, closing his eyes. 

When Robert had finally told him the full story of what happened, he’d listened quietly, had barely reacted. He supposes it’s still sinking in for Aaron how close he came to death, that he’s still coming to terms with Belle being hurt, Ross getting shot, Lawrence dying. The only reaction had been when Robert told him the coppers have Lachlan bang to rights, that he’s locked away and probably won’t be let out for a very long time. Then, he’d smiled and muttered, viciously, “_Good_.”

Tilting his head, Robert presses a soft kiss to Aaron’s forehead, and keeps his arm curled around his shoulders the entire way home. Aaron seems to doze a little, but he stirs when Cain parks outside the pub. Drizzle patters down on the windows, the world outside grey and bleak as autumn slowly starts to creep over the village, and Aaron sits up, running a hand across his face.

“No party this time?” he checks.

“No, love,” Chas reassures him. “We’ll wait ‘til you’re better, yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause then I can drink and ignore you and Charity dancing on the bar.”

She grins. “Cheeky get.”

They go in through the back to avoid any nosy gazes in the pub. Aaron shuffles into the back room and sinks down onto the couch, weary and frustrated, muffling an ugly cough into his fist. Robert wordlessly pours him a glass of water before joining him on the sofa.

“Rest, yeah?” he says quietly. “I’ll make us some dinner later, then take a shower with ya. Bet you feel pretty grotty after being in hospital for a week.”

Aaron scowls. “I don’t need help.”

“Who said anything about help?” Robert leans in, kisses the sensitive spot just beneath Aaron’s ear. “Maybe I just want to get you alone in the shower.”

He slants Robert a knowing look. “Yeah. Except you know we can’t shag for a while, so nice try. Look, I don’t need a caretaker, alright?” 

“Grumpy,” Chas accuses. “Thought you’d be glad to be home.”

“I am,” he insists, then sighs. “I just…I hate this. I hate being like this.”

“Been there, mate,” Cain says. He shrugs. “Reckon you’ll get through it quicker than I did. Doubt you’ll be any less shitty than I was, though.”

Aaron snorts. “You gonna be a pain in my arse like I was to you?” 

“No chance. You want someone to wait on you hand, foot, arse and elbow, you’ve got lover boy here.” Cain pushes away from the wall and reaches out, giving Aaron’s shoulder a solid pat. “Right, duty calls. I told Debbie I’d help out this afternoon. See you later, yeah?”

Aaron nods. “Yeah. Cheers, Cain.”

Once Cain’s gone, Chas goes into the kitchen to make a fresh cuppa. Aaron perks up a little, clearly enthused by the prospect of a decent brew after the weak, watery tea in the hospital, and Robert smiles, resting his hand on Aaron’s knee.

“You’re gonna be alright, you know,” he offers. “Couple of weeks of rest and you’ll be on the mend, that’s what Dr Battersby said.”

“I know,” Aaron mutters. “I just…”

“I know,” Robert echoes. “Try getting shot in the chest. _That_ was a long and frustrating recovery, let me tell you.”

He winces. “I suppose. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Just stop looking dead grumpy. Liv will be here soon. We don’t need two scowling siblings sulking about the place.” Robert smiles when Aaron rolls his eyes at the teasing and leans in, kissing his temple. “Oi. I love you.”

He meets Robert’s gaze, fondness softening his expression. Then he smirks slightly, mischief sparkling in his pale eyes as he replies:

“I know.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! The epilogue! I've really enjoyed writing this fic. I definitely didn't expect to finish 2019 by getting back into Emmerdale and writing a robron fic, but I've loved writing this. Thank you so much for the support and for commenting, I really appreciate it! <3 A sequel is in the works and will be posted soon.
> 
> content warnings for: mention of injuries; mention of recovery; mention of fire; mention of burns; brief mention of Gordon; brief mention of Jack.

“I could use a hand, you know.” 

Aaron doesn’t even glance up at Vic’s comment, just rustles through his newspaper until he reaches the pages full of adverts.

“Still recovering,” he reminds her.

She pulls a face and looks at Robert. “And what’s your excuse?”

“Carer duties,” he replies easily. “My boyfriend’s unwell. Got to keep an eye on him.”

Vic shakes her head. “Andy’s your brother, ya know. It wouldn’t kill you to help out.”

He shrugs. “It’s an engagement party, not the wedding. A few balloons and some sausage rolls and you’re sorted.”

Aaron snorts. “Yeah, don’t forget the clown, either. It’s not a kid’s party, Rob.”

“Thank you,” Vic says vehemently. “We’re trying to make the place _classy_.”

Robert raises his eyebrows, giving a pointed look around the pub. “This place? Good luck with that.”

“Oi,” Chas and Charity snap in synchronisation, scowling down at him from where they’re perched on chairs, trying to hang up a ‘congratulations’ banner.

Aaron shakes his head and flips the newspaper shut, folding it in half. He drops it onto the bar and straightens, moving to help Vic carry the giant cake through from the back. 

“Hey,” Robert protests. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’ve spent nearly two bloody weeks resting,” he gripes. “I can handle a cake.”

But he moves aside, letting Robert take over. The cake, a pink monstrosity that Bernice will no doubt love, weighs a tonne, and it makes Robert balk at just how extravagant the actual wedding cake will be in order to trump this one. He helps Vic move it to the table set up in the middle of the room, placing it down carefully.

When he returns to the bar, Aaron’s leaning over it, head bowed slightly. Frowning, Robert places his hand on his back, thumb tracing the curve of his spine gently.

“Alright?” he checks. “Your head?”

“S’fine,” Aaron replies. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m surprised you feel it,” Charity remarks. “What with your thick skull.”

“I don’t,” he bites back. “I can’t feel the fracture itself. But the bit of my scalp that got busted open? Yeah, surprisingly, that actually hurts. Funny, that, innit?”

“Okay, grumpy,” she says, holding her hands up. “I was kidding.”

He sighs. “I know. I’m just fed up of feeling like shit.”

“A few more weeks and you’ll be right as rain,” Chas offers brightly. “That’s what Dr Battersby said.”

The minor, superficial burn on Aaron’s leg had healed fairly quickly. He’d been lucky; Cain had put the flames burning through Aaron’s jeans out before they could do any deeper damage. He’s had the stitches removed from his scalp, but the area is still bruised and tender, and the painkillers he’s on have been giving him headaches, which doesn’t help matters. He’s improved a lot since leaving the hospital, but he still gets tired quicker, still gets spells of breathlessness and aching lungs. Robert knows it’ll take some more time for that to settle, but he also knows that for Aaron, who is used to being physically fit and up to anything, it’s a struggle to be patient.

Aaron just shrugs at Chas’s comment. “Anything I can do?” he asks.

“Go have a lie down?” she suggests. “Get some rest?”

Liv catches Robert’s gaze and rolls her eyes. They both know full well that telling Aaron to rest is about as effective as a bull in a minefield. 

“Or come up to Melby Farm with me,” Robert suggests. “I want to check on things.”

Aaron pushes away from the bar. “Sounds good. Anything to get me out of this madhouse.”

Grinning, Robert slings his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as they walk out of the pub. It’s cold out, crisp with the beginnings of autumn, and he draws Aaron even closer when he feels him shiver slightly at the cool breeze.

“You’re dead grumpy, you know,” he says fondly. “But I don’t half love ya.”

“Cheers,” Aaron replies. “You’re alright too, I suppose.”

***

Most of the village turns up for the engagement party, either a testament to how liked Andy and Bernice are, or a testament to the lengths folk will go to for free booze and sausage rolls. 

The couple look happy though, dancing goofily to Bruno Mars’s ‘Marry You’, and everyone seems to be in good spirits. The pub’s getting a little rowdy, but Chas and Charity are keeping on top of pouring drinks, and Robert has to hand it to Marlon: the cake is bloody delicious. 

Liv’s sat next to Robert. He tosses her a peanut and she catches it in her mouth; he wisely refrains from commenting on her likeness to a dog catching a treat. She crunches away, watching as Andy gets dragged into a bizarre drinking game Robert’s never even heard of, and she looks distinctly unimpressed.

“Mental, this place,” she remarks.

He grins. “Yeah.” 

_It’s home_, he thinks.

“Proper mental,” she adds. “S’not bad, though. It’s well quiet at mum’s.”

“What, in Skeg?” Robert asks. “I’ve been there. I don’t think ‘quiet’ is the right word for it. I got ripped off on that naff Ferris wheel and gobbed off at by some teenagers drinking cans on the beach.”

“Yeah, well, we live near the train station,” she replies. “It’s not as glamorous. But we’re moving soon.”

“You are? Where to?”

“Dublin.”

“Bloody hell. Does Aaron know?”

Liv rolls her eyes. “’Course he does, you dope. He’s already sorting out his passport so he can visit.”

“A legal one this time, I hope,” Robert quips, and she grins. “How do you feel? About the move?”

She shrugs. “Not bothered, really. It’ll be good to get a fresh start. Away from Gordon and that, I mean. Away from people looking at us and knowing our names from the papers, knowing our connection to him. Dublin looks nice, so. And mum says I can visit here during school holidays.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime,” he promises.

“Like I need your permission. Aaron already told me I can stay whenever I like.”

“Well,” he says. “I’d say I’ll miss ya, but I’d be lying.”

She grabs a handful of peanuts, tossing them at him, and he laughs, shaking his head. She’s smiling, though, as she gets up, crossing the room to talk to Gabby and Jacob. Robert sinks the rest of his pint and gets to his feet, but he pauses when he catches sight of Cain leading Aaron through to the back.

Frowning, Robert rounds the bar and follows, ducking into the back room. Aaron’s leaning with his hands braced over the back of the sofa, struggling to breathe. Cain has his hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Just breathe, lad,” he says lowly. “You’re fine.” 

“I’m…bloody…_trying_,” Aaron wheezes out, scowling slightly, and Cain huffs a slight laugh.

“Try harder,” he suggests. “Come on. Deep breaths.”

Robert moves to stand next to Aaron, resting his hand in the middle of his back. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re okay. You’ve got this.” 

He feels Aaron’s hand tangle in his shirt and steps closer so Aaron can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He patterns his breathing so it’s slow and deep and Aaron mimics it, shoulders sagging as he finally gets his own breathing under control. It takes a few more steady breaths before he relaxes completely. 

He offers Cain a quick nod. “Cheers.”

Cain just claps him on the shoulder gently. “Told ya you’re fine,” he replies. “Stop overdoing it, you dolt.”

“I was just helping behind the bar,” Aaron gripes.

“Well, don’t. Go back to being the lazy, work shy scrote who used to work for me, yeah? Ya budgie.” Shaking his head, Cain squeezes his shoulder before he steps past them, heading back through to the bar.

Robert drifts his fingers up and down Aaron’s spine. “Okay?” he checks.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, just…lost my breath. I’m sick of this.”

“It’ll settle,” he reminds him. “Your lungs just need to recover. Which means resting, you stubborn prat.”

Aaron scowls. “I’m fed up of resting.”

“I know.” Robert leans in, pressing a fond kiss to his temple. “Do you want to stay out here for a bit?” 

“I’m fine,” Aaron insists.

“Okay,” he agrees easily. “Want me to find another, better way for you to lose your breath?”

He groans at the cheesy line. “Fuck you.”

Grinning, Robert draws him into a kiss. He keeps it brief, not wanting to try anything deeper when his lungs are still settling, but he feels warm and happy when Aaron sighs slightly, swaying into him. He ends the kiss but rests his forehead against Aaron’s, keeping his hands resting on his elbows, keeping him close.

Eventually, Aaron steps back, sliding his hand down to tangle his fingers with Robert’s. “Come on.”

They head back through together. The party’s in full swing now, people dancing, booze flowing, chaos unfurling in the messy, beautiful, unique way that only a rural village pub can provide. Smiling, Robert rounds the bar, Aaron in tow.

“You should go embarrass yourself by dancing,” Aaron suggests. 

“Hey! I’m a really good dancer,” Robert protests.

“You’re fucking awful. You make Paddy look like a Strictly professional. Go dance, Rob. I’ll be fine.”

He starts to pull away, but Finn appears, phone cradled carefully in his hands.

“Hold on,” he says. “Photo.”

Aaron’s brows pull together. “Why?”

“’Cause I’ve been roped into taking photos of tonight,” he replies. “I’m still not sure how. So, say cheese.”

Aaron shakes his head slightly but he shifts when Robert does, the two of them curling their arms around each other’s waists. Robert leans in to Aaron, holding him close as they both grin at the camera, and they end up having to blink away spots from the dazzling flash. Finn gives them a thumbs up and moves on to take a video of people dancing.   
Bernice spots Robert and holds out her hands, face lit up, and Aaron nudges Robert towards her.

“Go dance with your future sister in law,” he says. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be _fine_,” he insists.

Robert presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and takes Bernice’s hands, starting to dance. She’s a little tipsy, so he has to duck to miss her flailing arms as she tries to follow the beat of a pop song, and Andy saves him eventually, holding his future wife up with a fond, happy smile on his face.

“Congratulations,” Robert shouts over the music. “Really.”

Andy grins and claps him on the arm. “Cheers, Rob. I’m glad you’re here. Both of ya.” He nods in Aaron’s direction. “He makes you a better person, you know that? You’re lucky. We both are.”

Robert looks over, smiling at the expression on Aaron’s face as he reaches out to stop a drunk Charity from falling on her arse. He catches Robert’s gaze, catches the sickeningly sweet fondness Robert knows must be blatant in his expression, and he smiles back, his own eyes soft and full of so much love it should be impossible.

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re lucky.”

***

Autumn settles, fresh and crisp, over Emmerdale, turning lush green to a patchwork of vibrant orange, gold and brown. Leaves crunch underfoot, a constant chill creeps into the air, and the café gets decked out in Halloween decorations.

Between work and keeping on top of the barn renovations, the days fly by as Robert’s kept busy. Aaron, once he’s recovered fully, is just as snowed under at the scrapyard, but they get to have their evenings together, get to keep each other warm at night and wake up with legs tangled and mouths sharing breath. The busyness is worth it, too; the sooner the renovations are complete, the sooner they’ll have their own space, their own world carved out of wood and stone. They’re working towards their future together.

It’s a Friday when Robert walks into the pub through the back door and stops, attention immediately caught by the wall of photos. There’s something different. Frowning, he closes the distance between him and the wall, gaze finding the spot where Jack’s photograph had been removed. For weeks, a slightly dusty square lingered in the middle of the cluster of pictures, but now there’s a frame hanging up again.

But this photograph is different.

It’s of him and Aaron. A shot of them at Andy’s engagement party. They’ve got their arms wrapped around each other and their faces close together, gazes soft and happy and smiles on their faces as they look at the camera. 

In the background, Robert can see Andy and Bernice dancing, can see Vic chatting with Chas and Charity. Liv’s there, too, dancing with Gabby and Noah, and Adam’s a few feet behind Robert and Aaron, up on his tiptoes to photobomb with a cheesy grin. Cain’s leaning against the bar and there’s a smile on his face (or as close as Cain gets to a smile, anyway, which mostly means he’s wearing a marginally less murderous expression).

For a long moment, Robert just stares at it, his heart open and warm in his chest. He gazes at him and Aaron, lets the blatant love in Aaron’s expression sink into his soul, takes in the faces of his family in the background. 

He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> \---> allirica over on tumblr.


End file.
